Happiness is...

This is kinda the point, right? You know - of life?

Well, maybe.

Are there other points?

Make the world a better place. Honor your ancestors. Love others. Launch humanity forward. Respect nature. Save the earth. Protect your parents. Help your children, grandchildren, and in fact all children achieve their potential. See the miracle inherent in your very being and reflect that outward. Bear witness to struggle but also beauty. Lend a hand and help others. Create good things. Make meaningful sacrifices.

What else? Let’s not be so human-centric and look to other life on earth: the points are to eat, to be a part of a balanced ecosystem, to reproduce. Also - to play. I’ve sat on California beaches at sunset and watched dolphins ride incoming waves again and again, just for fun. Sure, dolphins, but also did you know that crabs play? How about bumblebees? Even baby ants engage in non-harmful wrestling matches, just like my sons do. I would argue that a point of life is, whenever possible, to enjoy it.

These points aren’t easy. Each one is particularly sharp and, on its own, can be tough to handle. But taken together and treated more like a bed of nails rather than a pile of needles, they can support a life well lived.

But who wants to lay on a bed of frickin’ nails? What can we layer on top of this bed of pointy points such that it is bearable, even - and here’s a big leap - enjoyable?

The answer is a habit of happiness.

Less a point, then, happiness is a way.

Maybe being happy is not the point of life, but it is a way of living well.

Habits are little, repeated ways of doing things. Generally speaking, we repeat the things that provide the quickest reward, even when we know that in the long term they are bad for us. Dialing in new patterns grinds our engines - it feels like driving uphill in third gear. In moving to Europe (where I now drive stick, thus the analogy), and stripping our family down to our foundations, I have learned about my habits, my ways of living life. Here, where society has more of that la dolce vita flavor, I have learned that I can build a habit of being happy. Not truly doing this was a big part of what was messing up my life in the US - but I also never had the room there to actually turn the tanker around, so to speak. Here I have made the room, and I have the motivation, and I have a network and overarching society that nudges me toward it. Bonus - people who know me would say I have a naturally positive inclination. They are right, so if I can really commit to this idea, I can change.

But I still have deeply set behavioral habits and expectations or judgments from others. Changing toward a habit of happiness takes work; and because you are a living creature in a relational ecosystem, where others may have shaped their own patterns in response to yours, changing toward a habit of happiness also takes courage. And, yes, compassion. Not everybody wants you to change. It may mean they have to change, too.

I can’t claim to always have the work ethic or courage to prioritize happiness in myself or others, but today, when I am again hovering in the grey zone and feeling the worrisome tugs of choosing an uncertain life abroad for myself and my kids, I am reminded that I made this choice of coming to Europe with purpose: to be happy; to provide my loved ones with happiness.

But, I remind myself, that was my thinking back then. What I have learned in my now two plus years investment into this risky life experiment is that happiness is less a purpose, and more a method. It is not a point. It is a way. And ways involve how we do things. Ways involve habits.

So now I know to push myself toward a habit of happiness. Because life involves the complexities and paradoxes inherent in imperfectly symbiotic relationships, as well as unexpected difficulties and, as I mentioned above, sacrifices in pursuit of purpose, it is not easy to build this habit, this method, this way. But I know now two critical things about this whole idea: 1) when you start attempting to make real room for happiness in your daily life, you get the benefit of seeing happiness everywhere you look, even in tough times, and even when you cannot quite grasp it; and 2) that happiness can come in a Disney-level supercharged moment, but it also can be marked by a frequent drip of contentment. Both are worth striving for.

If you can manage to be patient and have some faith in yourself, in those around you, and in the universe at large, you can build a habit of accepting the happiness you see and feel into your life. Then those big flower-exploding, birdsong-blasting, rainbow-dashing moments of joy that sometimes occur are like bigger bubbles in an already bubble filled sky. They are beautiful - wonderous! But, if a sharp point bursts your bubble, well, you’ve got other bubbles floating nearby that continue to sustain you. You know, like this moment in Brussels the other night:

So, as I am coming close to a few complex hurdles that would have in the past tossed me over the cliffs of insanity (real place - visited there last year1), I thought I’d share a list of three things recently contributing to my little bubble-cloud of contentment here in Belgium. I hope I can inspire you to take a look around, and recognize not just the sharp but important points that make life uncomfortable but purposeful, but also the underlying happiness that is also right there in front of you that make it possible to continue forward. When you build in some structure to appreciate this happiness, you can start to shift toward a habit - a good habit of allowing yourself to feel content, which in turn provides you with sustenance as your pursue all the other points of human life.

As my mother-in-law Donna has said, love is not just a feeling. It is an action. I think the same is true of happiness.

Can you point to three things that provide you with some sustaining contentment, and write them in the comment box below? Things that when you take action related to them, they bring you happiness, joy, or just a stress-releasing smile?

Here are some ideas to get you started:

My dog Everest makes me happy. Making him happy also makes me happy. When we bump into other dogs with their people in the woods, I love how I get to say “Bonjour! Il est gentille!” since Everest is such a sweet, gentle dog who bears all conflict and stress with grace and good humor. I love that people ask me, usually in French or Dutch, some version of how old is he - ten months? I get to respond - no, ten years and cause a bit of surprise and delight. I glow a bit with pride and joy about my beautiful, young-looking, emotionally attuned, peaceful, fun dog. By association, maybe I get to be a little bit like that, too.

We’ve talked about this before. But these are not just any woods. They are a UNESCO world heritage site. They are very old woods, holding a little secret of a 125 year old royal arboretum. I can ride my bike in them all day - I can go to Brussels to see the city, or Tervuren to visit the park, or Waterloo to cut fresh flowers. They hold ancient rubble from old monasteries built over Medieval churches built over Druid ritual sites (built over what I can only assume are magnetic or gravity-altered spaces of deep, lost magic). They have ghost sightings, and wild boars, and elderberries and chestnuts you can harvest. They have giant sequoias and Manchurian walnuts, and a tree with no name but with a world-alteringly sweet scent you can follow to discover it behind some evergreens, its floating flowers reaching out everywhere like girls in pink prom dresses hiding off to the side a bit, but hoping to be noticed. Not just my woods, then, right? No…something more…

I speak English. Trying to speak other languages makes me happy. While I liked learning Spanish in 7th grade, I never truly embraced it, even when living in SoCal and it was a part of the fabric of my life. Even then, when I should have made time to learn this gorgeous language, I did not. This reflected a particularly American middle-class recipe: one part perceived privilege; two parts busy-ness; one half-part bad listening skills; and one half-part xenophobia-laden social structure embedded into K-12 school curricula. Here in Belgium I was surprised when a Dutch-speaking academic colleague said to me (in a wet, throaty, full-voiced, and direct Flemish style), that she pitied people who only spoke one language. “How many fabulous thoughts and expressions they were missing out on! How shallow their understanding! How lost to nuance!” she exclaimed. You know what? She was right! Each week in my Hungarian language class (which I take as a part of another point of moving to Europe: attaining dual citizenship for my family) I am amazed by what I learn. Each time I learn a new phrase that English-speakers just have no word for it gives me little jolts of glee! Plus, it involves going into a cool European city with my daughter, grabbing chai lattes and pumpkin bread, and sitting at a cafe overlooking cobblestones, a palace, 400 year old buildings, and this guy: a giant mural of a graphic novel character named “Le Scorpion” painted on the side of the Hungarian cultural center2. I love Le Scorpion’s swashbuckling style, and by extension, I love Belgium’s obsession with graphic novels and comics (little known fact! As I’ve said before: Belgium: It’s not just for waffles). So - my study of language mingles with my experience of culture, and this for me is a magical elixer of joy.

I hope whatever floats your boat brings you frequent buoyancy. I hope that you open your eyes to the little things that give you relief, and that you actively gather them in and appreciate them often, such that doing so becomes a habit of happiness. Life doesn’t get particularly easier - there seems to always be something. But maybe facing and tackling obstacles and overcoming them and pushing forward successfully toward an important life-affirming agenda, while deeply important, is not all that matters. Again, not always taking my own medicine over here folks, but I am not ashamed to say I know that what I am saying is true. May you discover moments of joy again and again, and have the compassion and courage to activate them and welcome them in.

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