Before we begin, I have a few announcements to make. First, I turned forty this week. I know! That’s a birthday to be reckoned with. No joking around with the decade-commencing birthdays. Believe me, I’m not joking around. But we’ll get back to that.
Second, I really do not love this Facebook somebody-is-probably-going-to-cross-stitch-this-on-a-pillow meme that made its way through my feed a few weeks ago. Some of my dislike is purely aesthetic. Norman Rockwell’s eyes would be bleeding were he alive to see this “painting.” But I don’t love the sentiment expressed either. Or not quite.
See, I’ve spent years – YEARS! – contemplating the subject of happiness. I have considered it from many angles, have listened to multiple voices, have read a stack of books. I even spent ten days inside my head, silently meditating my way toward happiness. And no, I still don’t have the subject figured out. Who does? I guess that’s why the cozy quilt family rubs me the wrong way – they offer what feels like a simplistic cause and effect statement, one that doesn’t fit right and is starting to give me a blister. Does that family want me to say, “Oh, that’s what I’ve been doing wrong, self! I’ve been wanting to have it all! I’ve been wanting the rooster to stay outside!”
I do like the idea of happiness being part of the journey, however, so any Facebook meme with a picture of a vintage-y railroad crossing and white Helvetica words bolding professing the journey metaphor will not ruffle my feathers, nor my now-living-inside rooster’s feathers. I’m a rosy-cheeked romantic when it comes to the subject of happiness, actually, not a curmudgeon who nitpicks well-meaning but poorly executed “art.” I love it when the stars align and everyday moments become magical. I think I spent the first three decades of my life with an above-average default level of happiness. The stars needed no chiropractic adjustments in those days. I guess I figured everybody floated from happy cloud to happy cloud. Even when I was sad, there was a bounce in my step.
But I also know what it feels like to be submerged in emotions beyond (what feels like) my control. Instead of landing on the next happy cloud like a giddy Mario sticking the landing, at age 35, I slipped right through and landed rather uncomfortably on a realism cloud.
Now pardon me while I mix my metaphors…
This new range of emotions, for example, tidal waves of sadness, can swell so high and so thunderously loud that I can only hold my breath and wait. Not so bouncy, those moments. When I cannot get my head above water, being thankful for what I do have simply isn’t enough to buoy me up. Maybe “enough” isn’t even the right concept. Maybe I’m supposed to experience that wave, and then when I am able to grab a breath after the water recedes, well, then I can write in my gratitude journal.
Demonstrating and developing gratitude are important activities, for sure. I’m not suggesting they’re not! I try to practice gratitude meditation each week. I believe such awareness has value, I just don’t buy that such awareness is a happiness guarantee. I think the last five years have taught me that sometimes happiness isn’t going to show up for awhile. She’s AWOL. She’s dancing at somebody else’s party. She’s trying on other people’s metaphors, hanging out on Pinterest. Happiness will be back, yes. Happiness will return. But she isn’t a permanent house guest, at least not for me. This reality is what I’ve learned in the last half decade.
Oh wow – is that…wisdom I’m developing? Happy birthday to me!
The wise woman inside me likes this poem by Jane Hirshfield so darn much. How much do I like it? I printed copies of this poem on pretty paper and tried to hand out those copies as favors at my 40th birthday party. Joke’s on me, though, since apparently no one wanted one…or even noticed them. The cupcakes were gobbled up, but the poems, not so much. But that’s okay – I’ll never need another bookmark in my life! Now I have a decorative box filled with many, many copies of this poem, a long-time part of my own personal canon.
Now I can read it in pink, yellow, pale green or periwinkle. No matter the shade, Hirshfield speaks a truth to me, that life’s ebbs and flows are there. Happiness will be there too. But happiness does not necessarily diffuse the storm clouds churning in the gulf. That’s not how she works, happiness. And if she did somehow wipe out the billowing swells, why, then I would miss knowing just how wonderful calm waters can be. I wouldn’t know how delightful that bounce in the step is.
And I definitely wouldn’t understand poetry if I only knew happiness.
Frankly, I wouldn’t understand life.
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It Was Like This: You Were Happy
It was like this:
you were happy, then you were sad,
then happy again, then not.
It went on.
You were innocent or you were guilty.
Actions were taken, or not.
At times you spoke, at other times you were silent.
Mostly, it seems you were silent — what could you say?
Now it is almost over.
Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.
It does this not in forgiveness —
between you, there is nothing to forgive —
but with the simple nod of a baker at the moment
he sees the bread is finished with transformation.
Eating, too, is now a thing only for others.
It doesn’t matter what they will make of you
or your days: they will be wrong,
they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man,
all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.
Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,
you slept, you awakened.
Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.
;
Now here’s your chance to share happiness secrets with me! What makes you happy…in addition to holding an umbrella in your bed while babies kick your face and a cat’s tail tickles your nose, I mean? Any poems or quotes that help to define happiness for you?
I don’t know what happiness is either. I think happiness is getting a full-time job somewhere. Happiness is feeling like you are watched over and cared for. Happiness is hope, and I have no hope right now. I hope you find your happiness soon because sadness sucks.
I have no wisdom to offer, so please let me know when you find out. For my birthday a few years ago, a so-called “friend” gave me a card with a picture of a man pushing a car uphill, past a sign that said “Gas, 10 miles”. When I opened it, it said “Remember, the joy is in the journey!”.
I never knew it before reading this, but all evidence now suggests that blog posts with mixed metaphors make me happy.
If you want a really great cross-stitch, look at the old piece about “Balaam’s Butt” on BCC–there’s a cross-stitch pillow that says “Erections are sacred”. It’s hilarious.
Great poem! And great post!
Since school got out, I’ve been wrestling with depression. Partly, I think it’s because I miss my part-time teaching job and the break time it gives me from my kids (I love them, but they’re kids!). Partly, it’s the Southern summer heat. But, I’ve been taking iron and I feel remarkably better. Not happy, but also not head-under-the-water sad. That’s a kind of silly answer to your question, Erin, but right now, iron supplements are helping to calm the tide. When I feel really low, blasting music (classical, kids songs, etc.) is a real buoy for me.
For the record, I took one of your lovely poems at your party!!!
We’ve talked about what happiness means to each of us a lot over the last 4 years. Apparently, happiness means very different things to us. ;) For Brent (and he can speak for himself, of course), happiness = striving, doing, setting goals, and, what I like to call “working on projects.” He especially likes it if we work on projects together. ;)
I’m not sure I can put my finger on what happiness means to me. I can come up with a list of things/activities that make me feel happy. But that’s different, no?
Or is it?
I really enjoyed your post, Erin. I’ve thought a lot about happiness, too. At the risk of an overshare here, I’ve spent the better part of my life wrestling a fairly nasty case of OCD. It is well in hand now, but it hasn’t always been that way. I know what hell feels like.
But because of that, I also know deep, rich, and abiding joy. I heard it said once that pain and sorrow are like a chisel that carves a canyon within, and you can only be filled with love and joy as deep as that canyon goes. I believe that’s true.
I completely agree that this frantic pursuit of happiness — “eight people are sleeping in a bed because we don’t have enough money for a cot and the rooster is inside because our windows have holes big enough for him to fly through…but ISN’T LIFE WONDERFUL???” — misses the mark some. It might even be a little creepy. It’s denial, an unwillingness to face live as it is. Things aren’t always happy, and you won’t always be happy, and that’s kind of the point. Otherwise, as you so poignantly said, what could we possibly come to understand about life?
I guess to answer your question, I don’t think in terms of happiness as much anymore as I do in terms of skillfulness. Happiness, sorrow, anxiety, delight — they provide life flavor to be sure, but they are just feelings and therefore are fleeting, about as constant as the clouds in the sky. If I want to be lastingly content (quite a different thing than happiness), I must develop within myself the space and the patience to greet each moment as it comes with as much love and openness as possible. If I can be okay with whatever is, it opens up a world of options in terms of my response, and honors the joyful and the sorrowful moments of my life as being equally important and potentially transformative.
Very well said.
Lovely, thoughtful post (and I wish I had that poem as a bookmark, it’s new to me).