1/15/12
I will say, by way of connection, that a current routine is for my mother to say, “Are you
happy?” and of me to say, “Yes.” And for her to say, “Well, are you content?” and for me to say, “Yes, I’m content.”
What’s interesting about this exercise is that there really is no other appropriate answer
than, “Yes.” It’s really all she wants to know. And there is so little she keeps track of these days.
And so, it prompts an interesting process for me, in which I need to weigh all of the
aspects of whatever happens to seem challenging or frustrating, or incomplete, in that given moment, and balance them with the fact that–all told, I actually am pretty happy, and that I consistently take actions–large and small–to assure that’s the case.
It’s easiest to think about the fire in the woodstove, since it’s winter in Vermont. And the
calculus is so simple: If you build a fire, step-by-step, the house is warm. And so my housemate can come in and say, “It’s 80 degrees in here, don’t you think that’s enough?” If you don’t build the fire–demonstrate that you can succeed at this basic, pretty old, act–then you are confronted with the fact that it’s one degree outside.
It makes me think about the person who was found dead on the radio, evidently having
broken a leg while hiking. When you ski out of bounds here, you are liable for the costs
of your rescue. The state won’t pay. So when I was snowboarding and it was one degree on the mountain, I was paying attention.
And I think that’s a form of being happy.
Creative Work