Can we decide to be happy?
A new year dawns, and with it comes the
habitual assessment of the year we’ve left behind. Many of us make resolutions
to right whatever we felt went wrong, to turn over the proverbial new leaf, to
chart a course to improve ourselves and our lot in life.
At the heart of this resolve is the supposition that we, as thinking
beings aware of our shortcomings, are or at least ought to be dissatisfied with
the present, discontent with our circumstances and with ourselves. “Happiness in intelligent people,” said Ernest
Hemingway, “is the rarest thing I know.”
Which isn’t to say that we shouldn’t seek improvement, or work to
acquire those certain things that would make our lives easier, more pleasant –
in short, happier. But we might consider
the sources of our discontent, and the various entities -- outside of ourselves – that benefit from
it. That original sin doctrine has
something to do with it, for sure, though many of us lead lives so secular in
nature that we are not consciously aware of the theological burden.
But we are on intimate terms with the world of getting and spending, and
there’s a lot of money to be made from unhappy people, from consumers who feel
the need to replace reasonably acceptable old stuff with shiny
just-out-of-the-box stuff, people encouraged to be displeased with themselves
and what they possess, to crave change and novelty for their own sake.
The New Year arrives, and in the spirit of bigger, better, best, we make
our various lists. Maybe it’s time to upend the process.
The quotation has varied as it traveled down the years, but Abraham
Lincoln said something akin to this: “Folks are usually about as happy as they
make up their minds to be.” Through our study of history, of the magnificence
of The Gettysburg Address to the savagery at Ford’s Theatre, through literature
and movie portrayals, we carry a mental image of the revered president, gangly in
body, so eloquent in speech and steadfast in resolve. How his hardscrabble
childhood in that one-room log cabin in Kentucky and the devastating loss of
two young sons prepared him to utter such a statement about happiness is beyond
comprehension for most of us.
The Mansion of Happiness:
An Instructive Moral and Entertaining Amusement.
Children's board game first published in England in 1800.
Let’s play it out: let’s say there are two women, identical except in
name. We’ll call them Agatha and Zelda. Both live in old homes that in winter
are drafty as birdcages, cold air wafting in at every aperture with a right
angle. They murder houseplants with regularity, and for company, each has a pampered
calico cat named Mr. Spangles. Both are blessed with good health, though in
conversations lately they often whisper, “Excuse me?” and let’s face it, their
skin is unfortunate.
Both have jobs that entail moving papers from one side of a desk to
another. Occasionally one batch of papers is more important than the last, and
during their handling and assessment, the women employ some small part of their
educational backgrounds. But essentially, Agatha and Zelda are bit players in a
grand assembly line of printed materials.
Let’s go out on a limb and say that neither woman has seen her childhood
dreams come true. Neither had expected to spend quite so much time wrapped up
in bulky sweaters, or to build a career out of perpetual eyestrain and red
pencil. And while the two Mr. Spangles are attractive fellows, their
conversational skills are limited and they hog the remote.
So on the first of January, Agatha looks around and accurately assesses
all that’s lacking. Her list of New Year’s resolutions begins precisely from
that point of view and accumulates predictably, in much the same way it has for
the last decade.
What if Zelda takes Lincoln’s aphorism to heart? On January 1st she breathes in and
out, and acknowledges that that is a far better occurrence than not breathing
in and out. The skin’s a disaster, but there are salves and cover ups; the job
keeps the roof leak-free atop the chilly house. She decides, in essence, to be
happy with what she has and is.
What larger, loftier goals might Zelda consider placing on her New
Year’s list, if “finding an in-network dermatologist” doesn’t automatically
make the cut?
Agatha, the realist, the one who sees things as they truly are: Is she
more apt to genuinely improve her lot and to be ‘happier’ by the end of
December? Zelda, who squints at life through rose-colored bifocals: Is she in
denial, out of touch with her ‘real’ emotions if she choses to be happy?
But as a friend pointed out to me during a rough patch, an emotion is
only an emotion. The weight we grant it and the influence over our actions are
up to us.
A few years ago, a writer of some means looked around her distinctly
privileged life and decided she ought to be, well, happier. She launched a blog
and book aptly titled “The Happiness Project,” and set out and managed to
become, through incremental steps designed to reach a number of well-defined
goals, a (best-selling) happier person.
In her book, she offers advice on how to create your own Happiness
Project by closely examining what makes you feel good or bad, and what seems
out of sync in your life, and in light of that reconnaissance, crafting a list
of goals that can be broken down into discreet units. Along the way she tosses
out a few questionable maxims (“Happiness is other people.”), but all in all,
the book offers a sensible guide on setting measurable goals aimed toward
becoming “happier.”
It is, arguably, a fine occupation for the month of January, for any of
us, to take stock and assess where we’d like to be at the end of this beautiful
year ahead given where we are. But the thrust of “The Happiness Project,” as I
understand it, as is the act of making quantifiable list upon list, is based on
an assumption that happiness is not a choice, that it must be accumulated or
acquired, or at very least, enhanced and improved upon, year after year.
Which puts us at odds with Abraham Lincoln, who knew a thing or two.
What if, as we settle into our easy chairs to make our resolutions this
year, we stood the process on its head? What if instead of listing all that
needs improvement, we start by solidly acknowledging what’s going well and, further,
allowing ourselves a bit of the serenity that comes from wanting what you have,
rather than striving to have all you want?
How much more joyful would our journey through the year be if we started
at “happy” in the first place, and allowed ourselves to appreciate that every
item we check off the list, every step forward in the coming months, is gravy.
This post appears in the January 2014 issue of The North Star Monthly. Images from the Library of Congress.
