What’s the Cost of Happiness?

I received an Athleta catalog in the mail a few days ago. After barely making through a day at school while sick, I drew myself a warm bath and made a mug of hot tea as soon as I walked into the house. I settled into the soothing tub and began to flip through the catalog of quality active wear. Without even realizing it, I began to dogear corners and picture myself in many of the new fall fashions. I escaped into the fantasy provided by the catalog, seeing myself smiling and relaxed like the women in the photos rather than tired and wheezy and pale like I was in reality.

Luckily, I am not an impulse buyer. A quick tally of the total was enough for me to set the catalog aside.

But still, I felt a longing. A need that wasn’t there hours before. I checked my email before heading to bed and I found messages from my two favorite clothing stores at a nearby outlet mall. Each store was running a 50% off everything sale and included an additional 20% off coupon in the email. I weighed my options. I haven’t bought much in the way of clothing lately. I have enough clothes for work but some are starting to show signs of wear and others have never fit right again since the divorce. I would like to freshen up the wardrobe. But, if I’m honest with myself, it isn’t really needed.

I closed the emails.

I could take $200 or so and buy a few key pieces from Athleta that would probably become my go-to items for several years. Or, I could take that same money and walk away with several bulging bags from the outlet mall that would update my work wardrobe for many years. But would either of those purchases bring me any happiness?

Temporarily, sure.

I would enjoy the hunt for a bargain at the mall or the perusal of the perfect pictures in the catalog. I would revel in the look and feel of new fabric that is sized to fit my post-divorce frame. But soon, they would simply become heaps of cotton and spandex in the hamper. Something else to fold or hang. Another item who fails to impress after an all-to-brief honeymoon period.

I’ve learned that when I feel that longing for something new it is because I feel some void in my life at the moment. Right now, that void is because I cannot be as active as I wish while my lungs are healing. I feel stuck and frustrated. Some part of me seems to think that covering my body with new clothing will make it feel better inside. I know that is a fallacy. But, damn, it sure is a persistent one.

Instead of spending that money on clothing that would bring a temporary smile, I would rather spend it on a plane ticket to visit freinds or family. Or a couple of nights in a cabin in the mountains with loved ones. If I spend the money on an experience, I may not be left with anything more tangible than pictures, but the joy in the memories will last far beyond the trip itself.

I know for sure what I do not want. I don’t want to lose the money in dribs and drabs, small mindless purchases that barely cause a ripple in my consciousness. It’s all too easy for money to flow out without us demanding anything in return.

I still feel the pull of the stores even though I know they won’t make my coughing go away or bring back my strength. While I wait to heal, I will instead spend time dreaming of upcoming trips. Even if I have to wear pants that don’t quite fit:)

Happiness isn’t found in money, but how we choose to allocate it can pay out large dividends if we make mindful choices.

When do you feel a pull to spend money? Do you give in or fight the urge? How do you choose to spend money to maximize your happiness return?

7 Life Lessons From the Trees

English: A scenic photo taken near Madison, Wi...
English: A scenic photo taken near Madison, Wisconsin of a red pine (Pinus resinosa). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I learned how to garden before I ever learned how to cultivate my own life. My introduction to gardening came with the planting of a single bald cypress sapling, its spindly form centered in an enormous mound of amended soil encircled by a protective fence.  Over the years, I perfected my techniques until I knew exactly what to do to grow a healthy and beautiful tree. Those years spent with my hands in the soil taught me many lessons that I now apply to the rest of my life.

 

Digging In

With my first tree, I had not yet found the balance between effort and effect. My three-foot sapling sat in a hole that required moving what felt like a metric ton of dense Georgia red clay. That amount of effort was not sustainable for the dozens of other trees that were eventually planted. I learned to dig wide, avoid the roots, and focus on loosening rather than removing the soil. This method still made the trees happy yet did not cause me misery in the process. Outside the garden, life should be a balance between effort and ease. Do not be afraid to work hard but do not work harder than necessary.

 

Amending the Soil

The existing soil in my one-acre plot was inhospitable to sensitive roots; its clay base would not allow air to circulate and would suffocate the life out of young trees if it was left to its own devices. However, if I amended the soil too much, the roots would never learn how to survive in the more difficult terrain once they outgrew their initial hole. I had to find the right balance between hard clay and soft soil to provide a safe environment for the saplings that would still allow them to venture out into the harsher world. Be aware of much you amend your own surroundings in your life. It’s good to be comfortable but be careful that you are not so snug that you cannot grow and expand beyond your current boundaries.

 

English: A picture of compost soil
English: A picture of compost soil (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Support Only When Needed

I have to chuckle when I see young trees corseted up in bindings and stakes like a character in Fifty Shades of Grey. This support certainly prevents the immature roots from pulling out of the soil or the narrow trunk from snapping in the wind, but it also keeps the tree weak. A tree that has never had to face the buffeting wind or driving rains unprotected will not learn how to become strong in the face of adversity. I let my trees fend for themselves in all but the harshest storms, where I would run out into the yard and throw heavy bags around their bases to act as temporary anchors. Support is wonderful when it is needed but it should only be used as much as it is necessary. It’s important to be able to accept help when you need it but also recognize when you can do it on your own. Once your roots are established, it’s time to let your trunk grow strong.

 

Use Natural Fertilizer

With my first tree, I fell sway to the advertising. I surrounded my tree with granules and mixed fertilizers into the water in the hopes of helping my tree grow faster and become healthier. The tree showed no response, but my wallet sure did.  Once I switched to natural compost, the trees and my wallet thrived. I look at most fertilizers like processed foods – you pay a premium for a product when the natural form is often cheaper and better. In fertilizer as with food, there is often an inverse relationship between advertising dollars and the healthfulness of a product. Nourish your body with natural foods and allow them to fertilize your health and vitality. Your vibrant body can then become the advertising.

 

Water Deeply

I made the classic beginner’s mistake – I watered my new plantings frequently, but briefly, scattering drops of water that never fully penetrated the surface of the soil. Although the trees appeared to be sitting in moist soil, the needed water never made it to their parched roots. I learned that the best way to water the roots is to leave the hose dripping near the trunk for hours. Proper watering cannot be rushed. I am sometimes guilty of shallow watering in life as well. I may find myself in a yoga class but my mind is elsewhere. I might be at a romantic dinner while my brain is planning for work. Or, in my biggest struggle, I rush through meditation without allowing the peace to soak in. In your life, fully commit to what you choose to do so that you can gain the full benefits.

 

Let the Light In

Pruning hurts. I was scared to make those first cuts, very aware that they were permanent. I was afraid I would ruin my tree, afraid that it would never be the same. The fear was unfounded. Although the tree looked alien at first, its white scars advertising the new cuts, I soon grew used to its new appearance. The removal of some of the unneeded branches allowed light to permeate the canopy which before had cast darkness on all around it. New plants were able to dance in the sun that now filtered through the tree. I faced the most painful pruning of all in life – the removal of a husband. Like with my trees, it took time to adapt and adjust to the new reality, but now there is light beneath the canopy. Sometimes we have to prune back some branches in our lives to let the sun in.

 

Plant Companions

My first tree was a loner for a season, standing tall in a sea of grass. Over the next few years, I planted companions, shrubs and perennials that kept the sapling company and enhanced its beauty. A wonderful symbiosis began to occur; the tree provided needed shelter from the hot Georgia sun and the companions held in the moisture around the base of the tree. In your life, choose companions that enhance your beauty and find ways to improve their lives as well. An abundant life is always more glorious than a single tree standing alone.

Alaska forest - trees
Alaska forest – trees (Photo credit: blmiers2)

How Long is Your Marathon?

Marathon Preparedness
Marathon Preparedness (Photo credit: super-structure)

I’ve been getting this question a lot lately and it always make me shake my head and smile. Those are about the only smiles associated with the marathon at the moment. It turns out the nagging little virus I had a couple weeks ago was actually the beginning of pneumonia. I ended up taking a week off work (something I NEVER do) and spending all of it in bed. The marathon is now 6 weeks away and I’m trying to build up my stamina enough to stay awake past 6 pm, much less run for 4 straight hours.
At this point, I’m feeling quite a bit better. I’m just still very fatigued and my left ear has been blocked for two weeks and the associated dizziness, deafness, and ringing is about to drive me mad. I starting running again last Sunday (2.3 miles!) and just now got back from my second attempt (3.5 miles!). Tiger is happy as my reduced speed and short distances means he can join me on the runs. I, however, am not so happy as I should have run 9 miles today according to my now-defunct training schedule.
So, what do I do? I could give up and scrap the race entirely. I could force my body into running the distances spelled out by the schedule and just pick right back up. I could get angry and curse my body for getting sick without consulting me about the timing.

I’m not going to do any of those things. I’ve invested too much time and money to quit, my body isn’t ready to run 40 miles in a week right now, and the anger would just be wasted (especially since I wouldn’t be able to hear my cursing over my ringing ear). Instead, I am going to run as much as I can over the next 6 weeks. I’m going to listen to my body (figuratively until the ear clears, of course) and rest when I need to. I’m going to enter the race with no expectations about performance or time; I’ll just do the best I can with where I am on that day. Okay, maybe I have one expectation. I’m hoping the damn ear clears so that I can hear the bands the Rock n’ Roll race series is known for…

This isn’t that different than how I felt when the dust settled after the divorce. I never expected to be divorced. It was not part of the training plan I had for my life. I realized I could give up, pretend it never happened, or get angry and curse it for all time.

Or, I could accept that it happened and go forward the best I could.

How long is my marathon? Long enough that it will be a challenge but not so long that it will defeat me. I’ll complete it just like I got through the marathon of my divorce – one step at a time while remembering to keep breathing.

National Marathon Washington DC
National Marathon Washington DC (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

It Happened to Me

Molly Ringwald
Molly Ringwald (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Most people probably think of The Breakfast Club or Sixteen Candles when Molly Ringwald’s name is mentioned. I am not most people.  My strongest association with Molly’s name is a certain this-is-what-happens-to-your-body-during-puberty movie I saw in my elementary school cafeteria in 1985 with all of the other 4th grade girls. I remember being somewhat embarrassed for Ms. Molly as she informed us about body hair and menarche. It seemed so far removed from the somewhat sanitized world of Hollywood, where puberty only happens to advance the plot as an ugly duckling discovers her hidden swan.

Molly’s new book, When It Happens to You, attempts to be as raw and messy as real life off the silver screen. The story is told through short tales that weave together moments to paint a bigger picture of love, loss, and betrayal. Greta and Phillip’s troubled marriage is the centerpiece. Greta discovers that her daughter’s violin teacher has also been playing Phillip’s strings. The various tales speak of their separation and tenuous relationships with others as they journey through self discovery. Many of these relationships speak of real life. They are temporary and undefinable. They grasp at one another not out of true love but out of loneliness and a search for acceptance and companionship. They highlight the fact that no life occupies a bubble; decisions and connections ripple outward ensnaring others as well as ourselves.

There are lessons of acceptance in Marina’s story of loving her crossdressing son and warnings of what happens when we fight reality from the widow Betty. We learn from Phillip that happiness is not as simple as a young lover and we realize that betraying yourself is worse than being betrayed by another.

I only wish this book was not afraid to reveal the depth of anger and loss that accompanies the discovery of a betrayal. You see, it happened to me. I know the feeling of the tremors that shake your body and soul when you discover the deceptions. I remember the rage so powerful I was afraid it would tear me asunder. I recall the muscles torn from bone as the sobs wracked my frame.  Greta speaks of this pain in a removed fashion. She speaks of it, yet does not seem to experience it.

I guess betrayal is like puberty in that we tend to sanitize it when we talk about it. We talk in platitudes and metaphors, tiptoeing around its ugly realities as though we can deny its existence and hold it at bay. We like to think that we could be like Greta, rational and collected. But, in reality, when it happens to you, the truth is much uglier than fiction can ever be.

Read about when it happened to me in Lessons From the End of a Marriage.

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