RECOGNIZING HAPPINESS

People often say, "It's the little things that count."  I bet you've found that's actually true.  As she turns your granddaughter says, "I love you Grandma."  Your husband brings you a cup of tea in the morning.  A friend texts you on your birthday.  You see a chipmunk beneath your bird feeder. A wildflower in the woods catches you by surprise.  You remember something that makes you smile.  These little things bring big rewards:  you're loved, you have a friend, you're enchanted by nature.  

People don't often say, "I'll take a mediocre life."  But that's actually not a bad thought.  What if I accept my ordinary body and make peace with it?  What if my gardening, my housekeeping, my dancing are all mediocre but I enjoy them?  What if I've never converted a soul that I know of but my faith is strong and soothes me when I have difficult thoughts? What if my marriage is not a fairy-tale romance but has survived times I never thought I would have to face, alone or together?   We could each of us accept our limitations and those of others and live a beautiful life. That would be enough, wouldn't it? 

People also don't often say, "What I choose to do is not essential to the world, but is essential to me."  But that's a fine thought.  What I chose to do when I was working full time could have been done by someone else.  Now that I have retired it is.  But it gave me purpose and provided for my household.  It made the lives of my clients better.  Because each of us counts, it is enough if how we spend our time is essential only to us.  If it is essential to me that I walk in the woods today, that is enough. I like this idea.  I like that we are enough.  

Finally, people do often think that happiness--or fulfillment or satisfaction, you name it--is just around the corner.  You know:  the next job, the next house, when you're married (or when you're divorced), when you have children, or the children are grown . . . .  You fill in the blank.  British psychologist Robert Holden (b.1965) calls this "destination addiction."  I call it always waiting.  But whatever we call it, if we're always thinking that happiness is somewhere else, then it will never be where we are.  I'd like to make this a poster:  

🌺

If Happiness Always Lies Ahead,

Then It Is Never Where We Are.  

🌺 

I do love thoughts like these.  Little things in themselves, they take my mind somewhere good.  What gave rise to these thoughts today is this:  When I awoke I spotted a chipmunk foraging in my courtyard.  I watched it the whole time it was there.  Seeing the chipmunk brought instant happiness to my very ordinary life.

What small thing pleased you today?  What nice way to spend your time is essential to you?                                      

                                                           Nina Naomi

 

 

 

HEALTHY ATTITUDES ( "LET GO OF SOMETHING HEAVY")

  

This is something I read:

Let go of something heavy.  Whatever your mountain is . . . fear, worry, doubt, or shame, it is far too weighty and wearing on your spirit . . . it is time to put it down.  Unburden yourself and imagine the wings that will unfold once [you are] free.  It is time to untether yourself and fly.  by Elle Harris at bellagrace@stampington.com

I've been carrying something too heavy this week.  I'm trying to let it go.  We all have mountains, another word for trouble.  Many times our mountains aren't tangible; they're emotions.  For me this week it's sadness.  In other posts (Healthy Attitudes, Part XIV) I've written about how mental illness affects a family.  It's a disease that hurts others.  It's a disease that can make its sufferers want to hurt others.  An unkind mystery to be sure.  Something I need--again--to turn over to God.  

In the same issue of Bella Grace where I saw the quote by Elle Harris, I found a writing prompt about a very different emotion than sadness--its opposite in fact: happiness.   Just a simple prompt:  "What does happiness look like?"  "What does happiness feel like?" And, "What does happiness sound like?"  I answered right off the bat.  

Happiness looks like my oldest grandson's smile.  It looks like my granddaughter walking in the door.  It looks like a clean house, a view of the ocean, and the trees out my bedroom window.  Happiness feels like my husband's arms around me, soft clothing, the love our daughter-in-law radiates, and when God is near.  Happiness sounds like the voice of my younger grandson when he picks up the phone (melodic, measured, pleased).  It sounds like my husband and me laughing.  It sounds like my teakettle, soaring music (Puccini, Andrea Bocelli, John Denver), and the whir of the overhead fan while we sleep.  There's so much more. 

These thoughts helped me let go of the feeling I was carrying.  Why should I spend (waste) my time (my life) with a burden both too heavy and unsolvable, at least by me?  

If you are holding on to fear, sadness, shame or whatever is crushing your spirit, it may be time to set it down. We may have to set it down more than once, but I bet we get better at doing that. 

A healthy attitude is not to let someone else's life (or death) ruin your life.  If they are kind they would not want that. It dishonors them. If they are not kind, you don't deserve that. It dishonors you.   

                                              In peace, Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

 

INSPIRING MINDS

Collage-Journaling by Nina Naomi

I don't Google "inspirational quotes."  I want to find them myself.  Or create them.  But most often something inspirational finds me, not the other way around.  We're all inspired by something different, aren't we? When something does reach us, we're likely to share.  Maybe one of these will reach you for you to share. I hope so.  

Quote by R. Arnold

I'm not familiar with Arnold, but I love the surprise of being fluent in silence.  We associate fluency with words, not their absence.  But here it is the silence that is eloquent.  The idea of sharing our fatigue naturally with each other without the need to speak is so appealing these days.  It feels like comfort and intimacy.  What could be more welcome?

Tablescape by Nina Naomi

"This is my life.  It is my one time to be me.  I want to experience every good thing." Maya Angelou.  Of course what is meaningful is that this is Maya Angelou speaking.  She has all our admiration.  I was privileged to see her perform once; she sang, talked, read and enchanted.  What is different about what she says is that she doesn't want to experience everything, but only every good thing.  A goal that takes work.  It may have been a wish she was granted, but not without her share of travail.  This may be true for us too.  

"Hope is the thing with feathers /  That perches in the soul - / And sings the tune without the words - / And never stops - at all - "  Emily Dickinson.  There's more to this poem, two more stanzas.  What is amazing is the absolute truth of her every word.  But then that is Dickinson's hallmark, isn't it?  Living in isolation with her extraordinary mind, she carries every subject, every emotion, on her lanyard. We could spend our life reading Emily Dickinson and feel that we had known the world.    

"Nothing is missing.  You are already whole."  Unattributed.  If we are complete, something at one time needed to be filled-in or added.  Completion is a finishing.  A correction of a lack.  But wholeness is different.  We are born whole.  We have no lack, we need not be made better.  I might say, "God made me whole."  

Then there are the smaller things we tell our own hearts to inspire:  "Try something new, my dear," I might say. "Make a friend, or a friend's day," I remind myself. "Reread your favorite book.  Why not?"  "Dig a hole, plant some seeds, water and wait." "Go outside and be amazed."  And always remember, 

Would you care to add?

 




 

 

GARDEN THERAPY

 

Blue Hydrangeas

Isolated in a country parsonage, after our second child was born I had the post-partum blues. Since one child took all my time anyway, we had decided, why not another?  After all, they're so much fun.  It was a good move; two fragrant babies are better than one.  Doubles the love. But winter in a bungalow without insulation and one icy bathroom, made caring for two in diapers harder than I expected. Sleeping was more like waking.  Plus I hadn't yet made a friend. 

As soon as the ground thawed a neighbor plowed a garden for me. Any 50° day we spent outdoors.  Not having any idea that planting was the easy part, I put in more seeds than I could possibly care for.  Mounds of zucchini, all kinds of vegetable and greens, trailing cucumbers, tomatoes that would have lost any competition had I entered them . . . .  I couldn't have had better therapy.  Same for the children.  They rolled around bundled in parkas until the temperatures rose.  

Hoeing and digging might seem mindless but it is also mindful, a word I didn't use then.  It takes you out of yourself.  The children felt it too.  Outside they didn't fuss.  Toys were shared.  The baby babbled, the first-born answered him. The cat chased a snake or two out of the strawberry patch. 

In the next house in a different part of the country I planted flowers and bushes instead of vegetables. But the therapy was the same.  Hours planning beds, adding, subtracting, pruning and, always, raking and burning leaves; you could do that then.  Mindful repetitive actions that caused stress to dissolve; it evaporated like water.  While I raked the kids swung back and forth, pumping up and down in graceful rhythmic motion.  It was one of the best times of life. 

Gardening is still therapy.  If you garden I bet you agree.  Chronic illness, pain, anxiety--whether physical or emotional--even heartsickness is healed in the garden. Not quickly, but steadily.  Where but outdoors do our senses lie so open to the quivering universe?  

There are times that I've teetered on the edge of despair when what I should have done is go outside:  pull weeds, sweep the paths, hose the deck, dead-head the plants.  Not to over-sell, because our healing kit holds many tools.  But placing our feet on solid ground, our hands in the loam, our ears and breath straining with the wind in the trees . . . that is where perspective settles fears.

Most recently gardening has been an escape from all we are facing.  There is no news out where I gather brush.  No intrusive thoughts.  Chronic sorrows diminish.  All that I love and appreciate seems to move forward in my heart. I come indoors at dusk contented. I would like to build a willow fence from all the brush I gather.  I may need help. 

When our children were small and a handful my husband used to say that a night out was cheaper than therapy.  What are the places where you can escape your cares?  I hope we all have many.  

                                                     Nina Naomi