Happiness Is a Muscle in the Heart

This is the first of a series of essays about happiness that I've been talking about for forever (okay, six months) and finally decided to write so that I can talk about something new.

Yesterday I called my aunt with big news.

"Guess what!"

"What?"

"I just bought my first umbrella!"

"...Congratulations?"

We both laughed, but it was another one of those times when people laugh when I'm at my most serious.

Purchasing my first umbrella was a solemn occasion. I tried out almost every umbrella Walmart had available. I opened and closed them to determine their size. I considered somberly the difference between a small umbrella that folds up to be shorter than the length of my shoe and an old fashioned cane-shaped umbrella that can double as a weapon in times of emergency. I contemplated colors: polka dots on white, polka dots on black, stripes, tropical leaves, leopard print, pink, turquoise, and even clear plastic so you can look up through the umbrella and see what the rain looks like.

I selected a compact black umbrella (size XL, for Jumbo Family) that will blend nicely into the dark of night when I finally begin my ninja career. It will also cover me and my backpack with lots of room to spare.

Now I have an umbrella, which delights me. At first I thought this was because I'm easily delighted - which is certainly true. But it's not the whole truth.

I'm easily delighted because the happiness muscle in my heart is strong.

Just like anyone can sprint downhill, anyone can be happy when everything is going well. But it takes a lot more stamina and endurance to sprint uphill. It takes training to be genuinely happy over a new umbrella.

But the happier you are, and the more often that you're happy, the stronger that happiness muscle gets. It's like lifting weights.

For example: It's late September now, and in Texas it's still fluctuating between upper nineties and high sixties, but in another month or two winter will be upon us. Wind. Storms. Rain. Cold. But as long as it doesn't actually rain sideways (which is not something I would put past the weather around here), I will be nice and dry. Hooray for umbrellas!

Now I could wait to be happy about being cold and dry instead of cold and wet until the bad weather starts. But why wait to be happy later when you can get a head start today?

If you can find happiness in a new umbrella, you can find happiness in almost anything.

Duh Thoughts

There's something about being young that makes very obvious statements seem like blinding insights into the true nature of the universe. I call these insights 'Duh' thoughts.

For example: On Friday I pulled a rib in my back (somehow, don't ask me how, it makes no sense). I was initially proud of how I handled it. No panicking or running to the emergency room or even whimpering very loudly.

But as I slogged through the day, counting time at my job (my wonderful perfect job) by slow, agonizing 15 minute increments until I could go out and buy a bunch of instant cold packs, some m&ms, and most of all stop pretending to be professional, I had a deep, amazing insight:

Being in constant pain is exhausting.

I never really knew that, but as soon as the thought registered, I realized that not only was it the deepest, truest thought I'd had all week, it was also blindingly obvious.

I mean, it's not like being in pain is going to make you want to sing and dance with the elves. Hello.

Yesterday I had another obvious insight.

After my appointment with the chiropractor, as I laid on the massage table (an amazing invention that I will insist on being installed in the spaceship before I agree to be sent as a representative of the human race to distant galaxies) and began to relax, I felt the pain lift and as it lifted, I realized that I could think.

And that I couldn't think very well before then.

Therefore: pain makes you stupid. QED. (This is something that I sort of knew before from a scientific study showing that pain causes blood to flow more slowly to the brain in women and more quickly in men. The conclusion of the study is that women have higher endurance because they literally 'feel' less of the pain the more of it there is (admittedly sacrificing higher functions for this endurance) while men get faster and smarter when they're in pain (up to the point they collapse). This is just a paraphrase of something I read several years ago, so don't take my word for it if you're really interested - look it up for yourself.)

The moral is that when you're young, (or maybe this will be a lifelong condition- since I haven't lived long enough to be anything but young I don't know yet), it's very hard to have an insight that isn't already old news to everyone else. But even duh thoughts feel nice and new the first time you figure them out on your own.

Illusions

I've heard people say - mostly on movies, but sometimes in real life - that control is an illusion.

I swallowed it. I assumed that meant that I had no control. If control is illusionary, than reality must be uncontrolled.

I control when I go to bed. I control when I get up. I control what I eat. I control whether I act on my moods.

I still believe that I don't control every aspect of my life. I don't control whether people like me. I don't control whether someone hires me. I don't control whether I'm successful.

But I control how hard I try.

Therefore, lack of control must be just as illusionary as total control.

This makes me feel so much better about life.