On Happiness

Carl Sandburg wrote a poem about happiness. It goes like this:

Happiness
I asked the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell me what is happiness.
And I went to famous executives who boss the work of thousands of men
.
They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though I was trying to fool with them
And then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along the Desplaines river
And I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with their women and children and a keg of beer and an accordion.

A Happy Weekend

The weekend that was saw this:

• A visit with my mom and uncle.
• A couple simple, but nice, breakfasts.
• Recording podcasts with a friend.
• A good evening nap on the couch.
• A couple beers while chatting with my wife.
• A Facebook challenge to a friend to post a photo of him wearing a tiara. (Yes, there exists a photo of me in a tiara in an attempt to get him to post a photo.)
• The longest walk (on a vaguely cool evening) since my wife sprained her ankle.
• A nice, long drive with the windows down to suck up a bit more of the cool evening.
• Waking up early Sunday to step outside into cool weather on the first day of fall.
• Watching a movie with my wife.

A Happy Week

This week: I’m sure there will be walks, writing, and time to read and relax. A dinner with a friend is already scheduled for Wednesday. Cooler weather in the mornings I go into the office; darker mornings and a little extra sleep if needed on the days I work from home. Unknown things that will just happen and be cool. A lot of simple, repeatable things.

Carl Sandburg was right: there’s no real secret to being happy — it’s as easy as finding things you like that you can do every day. The rare bad day at work doesn’t win because when it’s done, I can let that fall to the side and go for a walk and talk with my wife about other things. I can write, sit on the couch and enjoy the sound of the dishwasher, or meet up with a friend.

When happiness is found in everyday things, it’s pretty easy to be happy every day.