Philosophy | 4 0 2

January 1, 2013

Day 38: Happiness (and Boringness)

Okay, okay. Someone called me out on having a boring blog yesterday. Publicly. Like, as a blog comment.

Sometimes, I can only spend 20 minutes or so putting these posts together. And on those days, they aren’t stellar. Writing something for public view every single day is harder than I originally imagined. But, it’s a good and humbling experience. I recommend it to anyone looking for a way to push him/herself and experience a little vulnerability.

In that vein, today I’m paraphrasing a post written last January by Bronnie Ware, an Australian nurse who used to work with people at the very end of their lives. She chronicled the top five regrets people expressed on their deathbeds. In honor of beginning a fresh new year and approaching each day with a smile, here are the regrets she observed:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

Because of the way it’s phrased, the fifth one strikes me the most. It doesn’t say, “I wish I had been happier.” It says, “I wish that I had let myself be happier.” As Bronnie points out, happiness is a choice. Every minute of the day, we get to choose how we live. And certainly, experiencing sadness and destruction is part of every life. But on the whole, if we practice being happy, we lead happier lives.

May you and yours have a very happy New Year.

December 29, 2012

Day 35: Imprints

In keeping with the recent post about how we leave imprints on each other’s lives without even knowing it, I thought I’d share a super cool fossil I found a couple of days ago on the Oregon coast.

And yes, I found it during my post-meltdown walk.

It’s beautiful. The shell is gone but the fossil remains.

Give someone a hug today and you might leave a lovely (less rigid) imprint on him/her, too.

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December 28, 2012

Day 34: The Meltdown

Ok. I’ll admit it. I had a full-on meltdown yesterday morning. I’m talking tears, Kleenex and the creation of a giant person-sized blanket nest (in which to burrow). The whole nine yards.

On an unrelated note, check out the recent New York Times article on possible originations of “the whole nine yards.” It’s pretty interesting.

In the midst of the meltdown, I identified four main causes that proved to be pseudo-causes upon even the most superficial reflection. Here they are:

I’m turning 30 in a week. Cliché crisis? Totally. With only a week to go, I was pretty sure I’d made it to the end of my 29th year without having one, but my brand new blanket nest suggested otherwise.

I quit my stable job in favor of a free-flowing freelancing lifestyle. But so far, there have been no downsides. I work hard, I work a lot, I dance often and I pay my rent. All good things, right? But—sob—“everyone thinks I’m crazy.” In truth, I don’t think anyone thinks that. And if they do, I don’t actually care (aside from when I’m crying about it).

I posted two blogs in a row with errors in them. I fixed the errors quickly, but not before the email-reader versions went out. I’ve spent years cultivating a “let it go” attitude (only about the small stuff, of course), but apparently attitudes can be un-done. I’d like to say I inserted an error into this post as an attempt to re-find my Zen state, but I’m pretty sure this one’s perfect.

I’ve never purchased a new item of furniture. The reality is that yes—I have. And even though I’ve purchased new furniture, I’ve never actually aspired to owning new furniture. There’s so much cool old stuff already in the world, I’d much rather continue honing my pre-loved shabby-chic collection. It makes my apartment look like an Anthropologie store. Perfect.

Here’s the probable actual cause:

I spent 36 hours closed inside a cozy cabin on the Oregon coast with five of my favorite family members. In my old age, I’ve developed all sorts of new and confusing allergies, including a pretty strong one to our Christmas tree. With no fresh air (aside from the little bits of oxygen sneaking past the ever-burning fire) and a whole lot of couch time, I desperately needed to get outside, go for a walk and take a breath.

I finally did and had the pleasure of watching the ocean churn and burn some of its own demons in the process. I felt much better afterwards.

Here’s what I learned:

If getting dressed and going outside seems complex and overwhelming, it’s exactly the right remedy. Just do it.

December 26, 2012

Day 32: Daily Do

Thank goodness for structure and accountability. I’m tired and content today, and would rather zone out and watch my dad make midday pancakes than write a post.

But, them’s the breaks. This blog is a daily commitment through December 31, 2013. It’s an exercise in following through, managing time and writing when I would rather sleep/eat/read/sleep/dance/organize the sock drawer.

One of the many nice things about a daily resolution is that the resolver gets to experience a daily sense of accomplishment (even when the product isn’t perfect).

Instead of making a giant yearly list, maybe this year we should all resolve to do something daily. Once a day, we can say hi to a stranger, say “yes” instead of “no,” read a chapter, run a mile, eat something green, put down the phone, write a blog, make a mess, make the bed, call mom, send a note, recycle something, create something, be really quiet, yell really loudly, light a candle, thank a friend, sit still, dance around, smile big, giggle and snort, breathe, pet a dog, feed a fish, help a kid, encourage a parent and/or look at the sky.

What can/will you commit to doing every day?

The journal image will link you to a blog writing resolution project set up by Meg Waite Clayton.

8 Comments

December 24, 2012

Day 30: The Note

When I moved back to Minnesota for the second time (there have been many times), I funded my volunteer internship at a nonprofit arts organization by working at the front desk of a downtown hotel. Travel can be a little discombobulating, so for 32–40 hours each week, it was my job to be nice to people and help them find things. In my tenure, I found lost watches, lost phone chargers, misplaced luggage, a couple of kids, restaurants, “that one building with the red sign,” extra towels, lost wallets, room keys and sunglasses. I also found a number of lost purses.

One afternoon, a woman arrived fairly frazzled. When I asked for a credit card “for incidental charges,” she realized she left her purse in the cab she took from the airport—but she couldn’t remember which cab company she used. I let her know it would be fine and made a few phone calls. A few minutes later, the cabbie was on his way back to the hotel, purse in-hand.

I didn’t think about it again until later that week when my manager gave me a note the woman left at the front desk when she departed. I still have it. Her words have stuck with me over the years because she helped me truly understand the powerful effect our everyday actions have on others.

I’ve typed the note below. It’s a reminder to me (and hopefully to you) to take some extra care with people this year and next. Be kind. Be respectful. Be patient if they’re a little difficult or upset. Listen. Smile. A seemingly insignificant exchange may make a big difference to someone.

The Note

To: Hotel Manager
May 12, 2005

Greetings,

I arrived this afternoon and inadvertently left my purse in the cab that brought me from the airport. Of course, I felt complete and utter panic.

Ashleigh greeted me and was immediately sympathetic, helpful and reassuring. She took complete charge of the situation—called around to cab companies and facilitated the speedy return of my purse and all associated belongings. I am so grateful for her gracious and effective assistance.

What she had no way of knowing is that this is my first business trip since being diagnosed with breast cancer about three weeks ago, so I came into the situation already feeling rather vulnerable. She didn’t know that—or me—but her care and concern were genuine and her tactics flawless. My appreciation extends to her manager and company for creating an environment where she was able and willing to be of great and immediate service.

Please thank her profusely.

Sincerely,
J.C.

Our interaction was probably no more than five minutes long, but it meant something to her. And her response—the note—means something to me still.

However you celebrate your holiday this year, spread a little love around to the strangers.

Category: Philosophy