The Difference Between Fun and Happiness

I didn’t get a blog post done last weekend. I put in about 28 hours editing my book manuscript – before sending it off to the copy editor.  I had an ache in my neck and was going stir-crazy as the evening went on…and on. I finished on Sunday night around midnight and made a PDF copy to send in the morning… I dragged myself into the shower at 1 am for some hot water therapy.  I couldn’t have been happier. I was euphoric.

I was remembering an article a friend passed on to me in the late 80’s. It was called “The Secret to Real Happiness” and it really stuck with me. The author, Dennis Prager, talked about how some people equate real “happiness”  with “having fun”. He felt that they had little or nothing in common; nothing to do with each other.

Fun, he said, is what we experience during an act, and happiness is what we experience after an act – a much deeper, abiding emotion.

Sports activities, parties, watching movies are all fun activities that make us forget our troubles, make us laugh and help us de-stress. But they don’t contribute to real happiness because the fun ends when they end.

When we see celebrities and the mega rich partying, driving around in expensive cars, living in glamourous places we may think, “wow… wouldn’t that be nice – I’d be so happy” but memoir after memoir from these same people informs us that it is not necessarily so.

Believing that a fun-filled, pain-free life will bring happiness must then mean, conversely, that pain must bring unhappiness.  Typically this is not true. Quite often things that lead to happiness usually involve some pain.  And, by avoiding pain or struggle, we lose out on some of the greatest sources of happiness in life:  marriage, raising children, professional development and achievement, self-improvement, civic or charitable work.

I love to have fun, joking and laughing with friends, dancing, playing games, watching funny movies. But I know that these don’t contribute to my overall happiness.  Raising my son, being in relationships full of integrity, taking on challenging projects at work, and working on this book project…have brought me incredible amounts of happiness that continue to build.

Understanding this can liberate us…we may feel more generous with our time pursuing some of these tougher challenges,  we may be less pressured to spend on things that will not contribute to our happiness, and we may rid ourselves of any envy we have for those with lots of toys, money and a scintillating social life.

It helps us lead our life differently and can contribute to much satisfaction. This really helps me when I’m exhausted or when I have to tackle something that is really tough: whether it is speaking my truth or rolling up my sleeves in the office.

I have been working on the book for three years, plugging away doing photo shoots, writing, re-writing, designing and re-designing.  We are getting near the end, but this last bit is challenging, time consuming, a lot of work, and a lot of hours…

I’m amazed at the happiness it is already bringing: a sense of pride and accomplishment.  Similar to that amazing feeling when you reach the mountain summit on a long grinding hike, cross a marathon finish line, or graduate from a program.  Not always a lot of fun during the journey but oh, such joy and real happiness in the end.

Wish me luck. Another month of filling in the blanks, the last photos to shoot, copy edits, then a month of back and forth proofing before going to the printer in April.  Much happiness to come.

Designing a Life

I started posting this picture of my garage/office just because it looked lovely last night, in the crisp clear evening, with some strange and rare snow here in Vancouver…

Then I thought – yeah, this is my commute.  I’ve enjoyed a few weeks of blissful “quiet” after a rip-roaring non-stop 6 months of working 24/7.  I realized recently my little interior design consulting company turns 25 this year. How did that happen?

However it happened, and how it evolved, wasn’t really a grand plan. It was one step at a time. I hung out my shingle because I was unhappy and felt stifled in the firm I worked for as a young 30-something designer. I had an opportunity to teach design at a college for international students, and this gave me an out: I could teach a bit to pay the bills and then start my own consulting firm and build it up, without the immediate day to day worry of money.

As my client base grew, I tapered off the teaching. I juggled both for a few years, then had enough work to stop teaching.  I was fortunate to get a lot of work from a health authority, and recall thinking: Boy! What will I do if I don’t have their work? It’s 90% of my billings… Now that client’s billings represent less than 10% of my work.  The industry has changed and project types and sizes have also changed. P3’s (public private partnerships) for health care have been a game changer. I’m involved in many larger, more comprehensive projects for consortiums and care home providers, rather than many smaller projects with local hospitals. Never anticipated that evolution.

In terms of work-life balance, the office has usually been in a spare bedroom or the basement. In this house it’s out back in the garage by the lane.  It’s always kept me close to home and my son. When I became a single mom 15 years ago, it did require a bit of creativity!   Thankfully I found I had the discipline to be able to work and flip back and forth to do chores, run errands, have a bit of time out, and still get the work done.  I’m grateful for that, and the time in-between when I could explore and evolve as an artist.

Taking time for my son, booking off Pro-D days and days when he was sick, and being able to go on some of his field trips, gave me such flexibility in being a mom and raising him. When he was a wee baby I only worked about 10 hours a week; when he was in school my work day was 9am-3pm. Now that he’s a very independent young adult I have more leeway to work the long days and travel that the work requires currently.  I must say that was the key benefit to doing consulting work on a project by project basis. I imagine it would be impossible to be bank manager part-time.  I was able to temper the work load by the number of projects I took on: whether it was 1 project, or 14, they were all of the same caliber – and I could fill the role as the senior/principal designer.

Through my working life I’ve always followed some simple rules: creating solid long lasting relationships,  getting involved in my association, living “marketing” every day, never burning bridges, trying to give everyone as much respect as I would want to get. That has also paid off for me.

I will have no pension, but I have lived in freedom for 25 years, scary… but work always came in.  One of my key clients wanted to discuss “the future” recently. I was worried they would want me to come work for them full time.  I love them, but I realized after 25 years of being on my own, I just couldn’t adapt to a full time in-the-office schedule.

I suppose there have been sacrifices along the way, the absence of benefits and holiday pay, insecurity…but I look back and can’t really think of a “bad” time.  I wouldn’t change a thing.

All that, from a photo in the snow.

This is a matter of life and death

As Dr. Seuss said: “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened”.

The other week was the one year anniversary of my mother dying. To honor the date, I shared, on one of my social media feeds, this beautiful picture that I took of her hands, as she lay dying.  I had walked into her room that day… she looked rough… but the light was shining in the window, bathing her hands with light.  I just pulled out my phone and snapped a pic.

I came to love that picture. The hands that stroked my hair while I was curled up under her arm at six years old, the hands that kneaded all that bread and made all those cookies over the years, the hands that straightened my bridal veil at twenty.  Loving, caring hands.

I had the luxury of clearing my plate and sitting by her bedside for the last two days. She was never awake but her hands would shake or she would startle a bit and I would just take hold and settle them, calm them. It was my turn to tend to her with my hands.

I was blown away this week by the outpouring of comments and caring thoughts that my post brought.  Some expressed sadness for me…but I replied: no sadness, only love.

It had been a long goodbye: six years in dementia care. Six years earlier having cleaned out her apartment.  The last few years she wasn’t able to speak, but that sparkle in her eye told us that she knew we were family, we were special visitors.

My sister and I fell into a lovely pattern of having lunch with Mom on Sundays; one of us spoon feeding her and one of us doing her nails. She still cared about her nails and her red loafers; she always pointed out her favorite shoes to us.

I hadn’t always been close to her. Through my 30’s and 40’s, I was too busy, not interested in a relationship, and early on in her dementia journey I wasn’t there enough. But I managed to find a way to turn that around, to show up, and to just savor that last year or two.

Each Sunday, after tucking her in for her afternoon nap, I reflected and said to myself: this may be the last time. We had a lot of those last times. We were lucky.  When she fell ill on her 88^th birthday late last November it was a quick slide downhill. I’m glad she didn’t suffer long after that.

Her passing was extraordinarily profound and beautiful for me. Not what I had expected.  Those days I sat by her bedside gave me time to digest the inevitable. To be at peace with it.  To whisper to her: “it’s okay Mumsie, you can go to heaven now…”  So, when it happened it was all okay.

One comment someone made to my post was: “Mom’s should never die….” But they do, and it’s part of life.  One of my best friends told me on the phone the other evening that she got to hold her niece’s new baby last week. She said it was the most precious, sublime experience…. What a beautiful entrance into the world.  All these entrances and exits are part of life and when we accept them with love and grace, we feel that love, not sadness.

* * *

I had a second experience 8 months after my mother’s death, when my father passed away unexpectedly this summer. One day he was here and the next he was gone.

We had a long history of disconnection: he had left my mom, myself and my three siblings with very little support when I was 12. I didn’t see him much over the decades…but as a young adult I did find a way, through the loving encouragement of a friend, to make my peace with him.  Although I still didn’t see him much, I called at Christmas, his birthday, Father’s Day… we talked occasionally and it was fine.  When I bought my first house on my own 11 years ago, he came and stayed for a week and helped me. We worked hard on the new house during the day and then came back to my old place and showered, changed, ate dinner and visited. He had time to get to know my 10 year old son for the first time.  Last year I was researching a project in the Okanagan, where he lived, and I took him along with me on a road trip for the day.  We spend the day driving and talking and connecting as best we could.

I was just starting to work on that project, in his city, and was looking forward to the additional opportunities to see him but this summer I got a call: he had collapsed and had been taken to the hospital. No worries, he was going to be fine, they said. The next morning he passed away.

This situation was different for my siblings; my sister had not talked to him for 25 years… I was so happy that I had.  That I had some connection with him; that I had said all the things that I wanted to.  There was nothing unresolved in our relationship. How lucky was I – that I had tended to this…in time.  His service, a few months ago, gave me peace and closure. Not sadness.

* * *

So I have had one long prolonged parent-death and one sudden one.  In both cases I know that it is very important to stay in connection. Resolve those issues, don’t leave things unsaid; show up. But even more so: grab the moments of grace when they cross your path. Be open to them.

I spoke to another friend the other day about her parents and she told me her mother had said the best time of her life was a trip they had taken together in a motorhome to the Grand Canyon – she’d traveled all over the world but somehow the magic of the relationship time on that trip tipped it into first place…it may have been an ordinary trip or ordinary circumstances, but it ended up being an extraordinary experience.

She also told me about an experience with her father: he had accompanied her on the train to Gatwick to see her off, back home to Canada, but upon arriving at the airport, they learned her flight was delayed four hours.  Instead of leaving her there, they took off together for a while, and had a lovely long walk through a neighbouring village.  Unfortunately, my friend was dressed for the airplane, not for a long walk (she said she had nylons on, not socks for her shoes…) and it made walking this long distance uncomfortable for her feet.  Her father responded by taking the insoles out of his shoes and giving them to her (apparently they had the same size feet!). His generosity, the time they spent together, was a treasured gift to her.

We agreed that these are the moments:  the photograph of the hands, the walk in the village, the renovation of a house.  We can’t plan them, we can’t arrange them and they don’t always occur on the “grand tour”, at the big orchestrated events. We have to be open: open to receive moments of grace.  They can crop up when we least expect them. Smile when they happen.

* * *

A beautiful TED talk to watch is: “Say Your Truths and Seek Them in Others” by Elizabeth Lesser.

In it she talks about reconciling with her sister before becoming her bone marrow transplant donor. How the bone marrow transplant was one thing, but their relationship needed a “soul marrow transplant”. The idea that energetically or spiritually there was preparation to do that might improve the medical outcome. Lesser starts the talk by describing how her early career as a midwife taught her three important lessons:

Uncover your soul –  look for that soul spark: we are all born with a unique worth that we unfortunately start to cover up as we grow and conform to the family, society, culture, gender.

Stay open, stay curious – ask the pain what it’s come to deliver: something new wants to be born.

Experience sacred awe – by stepping off the “hamster wheel” that plagues all our busy lives and entering the transcendent dimension of deep time: in which one is just “being”.

This is one of the most heartwarming and inspiring talks I have seen in a while, I wholeheartedly recommend it.

* * *

I feel blessed and transformed by my own experiences this last year. If you have parents around, don’t wait. Connect. Savor the days, the chores, the duties, be ready to catch the moments of grace. Be there so you can then have the grace needed to accept the exit from the stage, the concert’s ending.

It’s a matter of life and death.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m Back…and on a mission

Yes, one can feel so confident when they start a new venture, or a new practice, and everything is going swimmingly.  I felt very smug last year when I seemed to have no problem writing a blog post twice a week. Others asked “how do you do it??”

“It’s easy…” I replied “…not a problem.”

Then life happens, throws you a few curve balls. I cringe when I see my last post was in the summer. Yep.  It happens.  Lots of things happen.  As Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes in her beautiful book, The Faithful Gardener:  “Though we think we are following the rightful map…God suddenly decides to lift up the road and places it and us elsewhere.”

(I must digress: this is a fabulous little book, a story within a story, about a young tree in the forest who dreams of being chosen for a Christmas tree, and the wonderful life it imagines it will have. It’s a heartwarming, elegantly told tale about loss, survival and rebirth… I highly recommend it.)

This last year I have lost both my parents: my mother last Christmas, after six years in dementia care; a long, slow goodbye that ended with a brief illness and a few profound, beautiful days by her side at the end. My father, quickly and unexpectedly this summer; here one day, gone the next.  Two services, two lives to wrap up, two dealings with “the family”.

One of the more positive things that has taken me away is an abundance of great work. Lots of fabulous projects…too many almost…and I have found myself working 7 long days a week for the last six months. It does start to take its toll and it required me to drop pretty well everything else: social events, work on my book project, blogging, and taking care of myself.

I had a few days off at Thanksgiving and decided to set a beautiful table for a small dinner I was hosting. I launched into my old tried and true favorite past time of foraging for the dinner table. I decided on a colour, dug around in the pantry for dishes and linens – gold – and decided that the beautiful autumn leaves that were gracing the street would be the perfect finishing touch.  I went for a walk through the neighbourhood looking for the most vibrant golden trees and found plenty.

I came home, turned on some music and finished setting the table. I was overcome with a feeling of peace and total bliss…of “coming home”….I love doing this… I hadn’t done this for quite a while… I missed this!  How I missed playing and staging and entertaining and preparing.  It reminded me of how much I love this artful part of life.

The holiday passed, the workload continued. The cherished past times were abandoned once again.

Finally the deadlines, the deliverables, the bulk of the work is settling down. It had better…my health is suffering.  Too much…I need a break, I need a change, I need a rest. I need to reconnect to those artful pursuits again. As rewarding as my work is, as interesting, as challenging, and satisfying…I need to grab hold of those activities that most feed my soul and put joy in my heart.

Writing, creating art, entertaining, completing the labour of love that is my upcoming book; I am on a mission to bring these back into my life.  I hope to be here again, on a regular basis, to chronicle those joys, and write about the art part of my heart.

Big Year

So long, 2015, and thank you. You were a very big year, one of the biggest and richest years my heart has seen.

Big Hearted Presence:

I got to experience “walking my mother home” as she lay “actively dying” during her last few days on earth. It had been a long, graduated goodbye – over the six years in dementia care. Every year losing a little part of her, letting go of her understanding who we were, letting go of communicating with words…. She had fallen quite ill just a month ago, and we had a few days’ notice to clear the decks and just “be” there. I was surprised at how much I resisted letting my clients down, cancelling all my meetings…could I do both? My gut finally told me to just wipe everything off my plate (of course everyone understood!) and I was able to sit beside her, as she slept, sometimes peacefully and sometimes fitfully, just holding her hand for days. Someone called this transition time “being in the light”. It was an amazingly beautiful experience. It gave me time to reflect, honor her, get ready to let her go, and whisper in her ear “it’s OK Mumsie, you can go to heaven now”…My heart is changed and enriched by this experience.

Big Living, right to the end:

As well, I lost a dear friend to ALS at the beginning of the year. Her acceptance of her limited time: facing it head on, and her strong will to live each day as best she could, came through in her connecting with her friends, attending events, engaging in long, juicy, serious talks, communicating with us via her iPad and facial expressions. She fiercely guarded the opportunity to stay home as long as possible and only went into Hospice for one week, thanks to her wonderfully caring family. She really showed me how it could be done, with grace and dignity. The day she died, I was driving in to work. Again, listening to my gut, I decided to turn around head in the opposite direction to the hospice and see her….now. She was restless and fretful, and wanted to type something to me on her iPad, but her hands just didn’t work anymore. I looked her in the eye and was able to tell her I loved her. I left her with her family, and an hour later learned that was her last hour of life. I’d never had any experiences of people close to me dying…it was so powerful, and my heart was glad to have been so present during her inspiring journey.

Big Son:

This year saw my one and only son, 20, go off and live in Copenhagen for three months. This was big! He did so well on his own, learning to shop and cook for himself and find his way in a new, foreign city. I experienced being on my own for the first time – and it was good! Big changes, and lots of room for big choices. I had to learn to let go, and trust. It produced big rewards.

Big work:

Work was busier than ever before, and better than ever before. I’ve never worked as hard, or enjoyed it as much. I worked on some huge projects and was given really satisfying challenges. I got to work with different teams and forge ahead into new roles that I really welcomed and savored. And I felt big respect.

Big Creative Steps:

This year saw my book turn into a real honest-to-goodness physical draft and I held it in my hands and wept after I printed it out for the first time….it was real, and that was big! I enjoyed venturing into the realm of social media: blogging, Instagramming and having an artist page on FaceBook. Keeping a stream of photos and material for The Art Part of my Heart has made me look for beauty…every day.

Big House stuff:

Ten years on, my little house needed a new roof, gutters and downspouts, and a new coat of paint. Lots of work to tackle! It went well, and the big improvements have given it a great, fresh new look.

Big Shift:

After two years, I think I’m finally able to reframe my Ex’s leaving, from the anger of “you-done-me-wrong-and-I hate you” to “I loved you, and it made me so sad to realize you didn’t have what I needed to build a life together”.

What’s ahead, 2016?

Here’s wishing for a wonderful new year full of joy, excitement, adventures and successes. Lots of art and lots of heart. I look forward to publishing the book in spring, and I yearn for big love to come my way.

Happy New Year!

A Ten Year Love Affair

It’s been ten years, almost to the day, I took possession of my current home. As I look out to the back yard and see the star magnolia reaching across the garden to meet the walnut tree on the other side of the yard, I warm with feelings of pride, satisfaction and accomplishment.

It was a scary thing to do, ten years ago, taking on a 1930’s house and yard by myself. Year three as a single mom, I was ready for more permanence than renting could offer; I wanted to really settle.

I could swing it, I could make it work…and I had taken the plunge. I started with a month of renovations to re-do the kitchen and bathroom, modestly. They were in pretty rough shape. I kept my rental, just around the corner, a bit longer – giving me a month’s overlap. Because this process was not unfamiliar to me as a designer, I had done my planning and come up with drawings and had sorted out my intended materials and their lead times and availability. So, with the help of a good contractor we leapt into action early that August and got things done in time for me to move in September.

My father came out for a visit. We weren’t extremely close and my son and I hadn’t seen him for several years, but he came and stayed with us and helped. He had a truck and was able to transport things I couldn’t. He bought me a proper step ladder, and my first wheelbarrow, and took numerous trips to the garbage dump and recycling stations. That was our day job. At night, he’d sit on my 10 year old son’s bed and they’d talk and get to know each other. It was a lovely opportunity for all of us to be together.

When I had initially viewed the property in the spring, I had fallen in love with the flowering plum tree and star magnolia that were arching over the backyard space. The rest of the yard was a dreary expanse of moss, stretching all the way up to the rough and unfinished garage.

Over the years I’ve crafted a garden with rock walls and a stepping stone path, built a structure for hammocks to hang from, renovated that old garage for a 400 sq. ft. office and seen trees mature and grow tall, along with my son, now 20.

We’ve all grown. Work has blossomed for me: to another wonderful level. The garden is filling out, a significant relationship has come and gone, and my son is heading to another continent to travel for an extended period. It’s been an amazing ten years, and I feel so connected to this sweet little home that has housed us, protected us, allowed us to live in comfort, entertain friends and family, pursue our hobbies, and have a wonderful life….growing all the while.

Community

I’m sitting under a palapa, a thatched sun-shade structure, on a beach in Cancun, Mexico. The reason I’m here (other than having a grand sun-filled break in December), is that I’m attending Alison and Braden’s wedding.

Alison was a young interior design student I mentored about 7 years ago. She worked for me part-time during the final year of her bachelor’s degree program and then I hired her full time and she worked for me for several years. It was a wonderful relationship and she was not only a talented designer but also my right hand, and an exuberant, fully committed participant in the business. Aside from that, she was, and is, a friend and a supportive resource to me and my son. She is basically like a daughter to me. When the invitation came to join her extended family and longtime family friends, I said yes.

We’re having a week filled with activities: visiting Mayan ruins, riding bikes to Puerto Morelos, and spending our days with lots of lounging around at the beach, swimming, eating and drinking! There are 37 of us in total. I’m one of the outliers, so I don’t know many people well, although I’ve heard a bit about many of them over the years.

The wedding festivities are this coming Monday. But what I just realized today, is that we will have had five days before the ceremony to get to know each other much better. I’ve talked and walked and swam and dined with many of their aunts and uncles, siblings, cousins and family friends. I joined her parents at their own 33^rd wedding anniversary dinner last night. And I spent the other day travelling to Tulum with Alison, Braden and their cousins and siblings (yeah, I got to be in the “young people’s” van!).

What a wonderful thing to have this time to spend together BEFORE the ceremony. When we celebrate their wedding on Monday we will be a more connected community. Our support and the honoring of their vows and promises to each other will be that much stronger and interconnected as a group. We won’t be strangers across the room or acquaintances that smile politely and briefly at each other but otherwise talk only amongst ourselves. We are like handfuls of thatches, or grasses, that are layered and woven together to form a protective canopy.

Our celebration of their marriage will be richer, and our community of support to this couple will be stronger because of this experience.