Snipe Hunt

It was a snipe hunt.

I didn’t realize it at the time.

In fact, I didn’t even realize he was searching for something.

I just saw them as simple transactions.

$40 for a shirt here.

$200 for a new phone there.

But he wasn’t looking for a new wardrobe or a new phone.

Not really.

What he was looking for didn’t exist, at least not in material form.

But he didn’t realize that either.

He was on a snipe hunt for happiness.

 

I’m often questioned about my assertion that they were not obvious signs of my ex husband’s deceptions. There weren’t in the moment. But time has a way of revealing connections and indications, of washing away the clutter and revealing the patterns beneath.

And this is one of those cases.

My ex never expressed discontentment. He never claimed unhappiness or a lack of self-worth. Yet, when I look back, I can see that his patterns slowly changed over time. There was an insatiability that developed, an ever-growing need to fill a void. An endless search, each purchase seeming to send a message of position and power. It was subtle, at least until the end, but there was an energy to it. A drive. A need to be filled.

It was a snipe hunt for happiness. He was looking outside for something that can only come from within. He was distracted by the mythical beast he sought, ignoring the calls for help from within.  He gathered possessions like a magpie enamoured of shiny objects, as though the gilded gadgets would reflect light back into his soul.

And that was a sign. Not only of his unhappiness, but also of his approach. He was a man who looked for the easy road. He would rather move houses to gain a greener pasture than water the one where he stood. He would rather discard a wife and a life where he made mistakes than to work to correct his errors and omissions. He was a man afraid of looking inward, preferring instead to focus on an imaginary hunt. He believed that solutions could be found if he only searched hard enough.

 

It was a sign. His snipe hunt for happiness.

And, like all snipe hunts, it was all pretend.

In this case, an act of a man desperate to find peace.

And he looked everywhere but where it could actually be found.

Within.

 

We can learn from him.

We all have a tendency to engage in snipe hunts for happiness – material goods, dating to distraction, food and alcohol. Learn your patterns. What are the early signs of your own snipe hunt for contentment? For peace? Recognize that you are searching for something that cannot be found in the outside world.

And look within.

Water the Flowers

In my old life, I had a one acre yard that I was determined to turn into a woodland garden. Every year, from February to June and again in the fall, I planted small starter plants and divisions. By the third year, I had these petite and vulnerable plants spread across the entire yard. Watering them became a real chore and usually resulted in someone being ignored (and possibly even killed if it was particularly hot or dry). Something had to change.

I spent one summer laying out a complicated, serpentine labyrinth of soaker hoses, each long run connected to a water source with an individual control. I planned it out so that the water guzzlers had the higher pressure lines and the more drought tolerant had the lower pressure side. Once my project was complete, I could water the entire yard throughout a day with only five minutes of actual effort.

And it worked. The plants that were tucked in the back of the yard or in easily forgotten corners finally received a regular drink just like their more prominent brethren. They showed their appreciation by putting on size, often triple that from the year before.

Whatever we nurture, grows.

By the following season, there was a marked change in my garden. The tiny little plants, once isolated in their adult-sized spacings, began to knit together. When I gave a tour of the yard, I no longer had to speak for my plants, explaining the vision. They spoke for themselves. They were healthier. And I was happier, as my time could be used for more skilled and pleasant chores than holding a hose.

Yet all was not roses.  There were a few runs where the soaker hoses had to cross a no man’s land, filled with scrabbly grass and weeds, in order to get to next planting area. As I was watering my flowers, I was inadvertently watering my weeds as well. As a result, I had thick, lush patches of chickweed and knotweed, more prodigous than any desired plant.

Whatever we nurture, grows.

In the garden, this is an easy fix. I replaced the soaker hose with a solid one in the areas where no water was needed. As a result, the weeds failed to thrive and were losing the war against the now-stronger desired plants. By paying attention to the flowers and ignoring the weeds, the garden grew.

Whatever we nurture, grows.

This is true in our lives as well. Think about where you energy (physical or mental) goes. Are you fixated on a problem area in your life? Do you focus more on your weaknesses than your strengths? Is your emphasis on what is wrong rather than what is right?

Whatever we nurture, grows.

When we spend too much time and energy on the weeds in life, we inadvertently water them. They grow. We fail to see the blossoms through the thicket of weeds. And, if we continue to nurture the negativity, it will eventually choke out the blooms, leaving only the thistles behind.

Every life, like every yard, has weeds.

Yet every life

Every relationship

Every encounter

Every situation

also has blooms, spots of beauty and joy and exuberance.

So water the flowers.

Whatever we nurture, grows.

Related: The Garden

Self Sabotage

I am about to take a risk.

A calculated one.

A paced one.

But a risk nonetheless.

And I’m scared.

I’m scared I might fail.

I’m scared I’m making a wrong choice.

I’m scared that I’ll have trouble fitting everything in and I’ll lose focus on what’s important.

I’m scared I’ll make people upset.

Or disappointed.

But most of all, I’m scared that it might work.

That it could be the piece I’ve been looking for.

That it could provide me with the freedom I’ve been craving.

Where I am is comfortable. Known. Stable.

But I want more.

I’ve tried before and didn’t quite fail but it wasn’t the answer.

This may be.

It feels right.

But it also feels risky, which makes me want to pull back.

But then I’ll never know what may have been.

Tonight, I am committing to trying.

To risking.

I am making the promise of self support rather than self sabotage.

I started by making a list of all the risks I have taken that have paid off.

One is fresh on my mind.

I took the biggest risk of my life choosing to stay in Atlanta.

Choosing to move near Brock.

Choosing to let myself be vulnerable.

And to let myself love again.

That risked more than anything else ever could.

And I’m happier than ever.

I wonder what this new risk might bring?

At the least, I’ll know I’ve tried.

But hopefully, just hopefully, I’ll be able to add it to my list of successes in another year or two.

I’m going to get myself out of my way, take down the roadblocks of “what if” and enjoy the ride.

 

Scheduled Smiles

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It’s all too easy to believe that happiness is fixed. Unchangeable. Set in place by internal or external factors that feel beyond our control.

We may not control all of the strings on the marionette of our lives, but we do have the ability to manipulate the ones that produce a grin.

And all it takes is a calendar. Some intention. And some follow through.

Studies consistently show that our happiness increases when we are anticipating a trip or other exciting, planned event. We experience this. We revel in its gleeful power and, then, we all too often face a symmetrical slump on the far side of the vacation.

I used to see this pattern – up echoed by down – as inevitable.

Until my divorce.

He left days before an anticipated trip to the coast. That trip was my motivator and smile generator all summer.

And then it disappeared, a mirage replaced by hell.

For those first several weeks, I simply struggled to survive. Any smiles were spontaneous, fleeting whispers of joy teasing my lips.

One night, I opened a calendar. The only entries were for legal proceedings and work related deadlines. I knew I was looking at a tough year ahead and the calendar certainly confirmed it.

And then I got angry. I felt like he stole the one little vacation from my year.

Yet I was the one that had allowed him to erase all of the entries of happiness.

Over the next few weeks, I got busy.

I started with the big things – scheduling a trip to San Antonio over Christmas and to Seattle over spring break. I also planned one more big-ticket item – a 3 day meditation and yoga retreat for that fall.

My wallet was empty at that point, but my heart felt a little more full as I saw those plans printed on the page.

But I wasn’t done.

I penciled in hikes for weekends that should have good weather. I looked up festivals and wrote them down. I visited the websites of local bands and marked down their concert dates. I followed with release dates for books and movies and museum openings. I researched gluten free friendly restaurants and marked them down on the page as well. No event was too small.

Related: Goal Post

The timing of some of the events was dictated by necessity, but others I intentionally placed just before or after events I was dreading.

Sometimes, we chaff at the idea of having to schedule pleasantries. Think of the advice for busy couples to schedule a regular date night or regular sex. We feel like we shouldn’t have to plan it, that it should just happen.

But then we get busy.

And it doesn’t happen.

If it’s important, plan it.

Of course, I still enjoyed the unexpected smiles. I made a commitment that year to say yes to every invitation, to every query of, “Do you want to…?” I loved those spontaneous smiles. They created some of my best memories. But they lack the guiding power of anticipation.

Even though I am no longer in hell, I still make sure my calendar is heavy with scheduled smiles. Instead of feeling let down at the end of the wedding week, I am looking forward to meeting a blog buddy for the first time, going to see Lewis Black, an annual Octoberfest weekend with friends and an upcoming visit with a childhood friend that I haven’t seen in 15 years. I don’t have time to be morose.

My life used to be cluttered with to-do lists. Notations of what tasks needed to be accomplished and what responsibilities needed tending.

They’re still there. After all, stuff still needs to get done.

But now, I make sure that two more important lists are more prominent:

The gratitude list that reminds me of all that I have to be thankful for (I love that I had to shrink the font on this one to get it to fit on the page!) and

The calendar that lists the upcoming smiles.

And that makes me happy:)

My challenge to you today – open up that calendar. Find a week with nothing fun planned and find something to add that you can anticipate. Bonus points if it also involves bringing anticipation to another.

And then enjoy the little happiness boost that comes from scheduling a smile.

 

 

 

Ten Lessons I am Still Learning

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I took a break from the work of moving this past Sunday morning to sit on my new screened in porch with Tiger, both of us enjoying the view and the serenity (although I think he appreciated the squirrels more than I). Being able to take that break when there was so much to do was progress for me, a sign that I am indeed still learning. It prompted me to dust off this oldie but goodie from the archives – Ten Lessons I Am Still Learning. It’s funny when I look at this list now – I have downhill skied, learned how to relax more and even fallen in love with stretching in the form of yoga. I’m straddling two homes at the moments, both with extremely cluttered kitchens (and other rooms!). It’s a sign that we are always evolving and changing. I guess I need to come up with some new lessons soon:)

Ten Lessons I Am Still Learning (originally published winter of 2012)

One of the things I love most about my partner is that he sees himself as a perpetual student; he is always willing and eager to learn something new, even in an area where he is considered an expert.

Last year, we were out at dinner with a group of friends.  One of our friend’s 8 year son opened the conversation with my boyfriend (now soon to be husband!).

“Do you have a black belt?” the boy asked eagerly.

“I do,” came the reply.

“Actually, he has several,” interjected the boy’s dad.

“Wow!  Does that mean you know everything?”

“Actually, a black belt means that you are ready to begin learning.”

I loved that response.  It serves as a reminder to me to always be open to learning more, especially in those areas where I already have knowledge.

In that spirit, here are ten lessons that I am still learning:

1) Life doesn’t just have two speeds – on and off.  It is not only possible to go slowly, but sometimes it is preferable.

2) It is okay not to be the first one at work; stuff still manages to get done even if I arrive after the custodians.

3) I’m working on learning to sleep past 6:00 am and considering the possibility of mastering the power nap.

4)  A messy kitchen does not mean a chaotic life.  It just means that people actually live in our house.

5) Sometimes it is okay for the play to come before the work.  (I got this one from my dog)

6) I am still working on going downhill on wheels (bikes, skates, etc.).  I just don’t  trust those things!

7) Stretching is worthwhile exercise even if is doesn’t work up a sweat.

8) It is okay to relax.

9) Money will be there; I don’t need to get too stressed about it.

10) Always take time to appreciate what you have and remember to express your gratitude.  Especially when the kitchen is messy.