Practice: Happiness

I did this workout today as presented. I haven’t much to say today really. I have been thinking over what Sam said to me this morning about Happiness being a skill like patience. I am certain that’s true. Happiness isn’t found or lost in externals, it comes from within. If it is a skill that means one can practice happiness. I don’t exactly know how to train in happiness but if I had to guess it has nothing to do with being comfortable. If it had anything to do with being comfortable I would be a fucking master by now because I am a master at creating comfort zones and avoidance. If I had to guess being happy probably means embracing fear and moving towards it. If I had to guess happiness would mean opening all those creepy doors in one’s mind and airing shit out. If I had to guess it probably involves getting naked, rather than creating the perfect suit of armor. If I had to guess practicing happiness is probably just as uncomfortable and challenging as practicing patience.

Tomorrow is the day for the monthly measurements so I can see if I have made any progress! Tomorrow I will also be out of town at my sister-in-laws b-day XD


2 responses

  1. I think this is bunk. You’re either a happy person, or you’re not. You can’t make yourself be happy. Sure, you can spend your life trying, and feel guilty all the while that something’s wrong with you for not being able to master. Or you can embrace the truth: you’re a deep, poetic soul who’s never going to be happy. And that’s okay!!! Why do you have to be happy? I think we can just accept unhappiness but choose laughter. We can still give ourselves the giggles and have fun, even if we’re sad most of the time. That’s perfectly okay. Give yourself permission. Just stop fighting the melancholic doldrums. It’s really not going to change, my dear. 🙂

    • This isn’t about denying any aspect of myself or forcing myself to smile when I’d rather scream. The thing is for a long time I have rejected the whole concept of happiness. I also largely thought of happiness as vapid and the pursuit shallow and/or narcissistic. I also thought as a writer it was my calling to suffer, to face the demons, the darkness, the taboos. I still think the latter but I think in my repulsion to the concept of happiness I have built up a number of walls. I don’t think happiness has anything to do with comfort or denial if anything it might be something more like appreciation, curiosity and a sense of humor about the absurdity of life. I am an introvert as you know and introspection is my nature I have no intention of trading that in for hallmark platitudes. In fact I think societies’ definition of happiness is the problem it is predicated on perfection, on excess, on pretenses. That is not at all what I am after. I am after acceptance. I don’t mean compliance or complacency but acceptance of myself, however, beautiful or grotesque that self turns out to be. This is mostly about sating a curiosity in myself to see more of those crevices I keep hiding from, it is about living more ferociously and facing my demons. In any case with my writing, I have a certain personality which might be conducive to poetry, and I have a passion for the written word but in order to develop my craft I have to work on it. If I want to be fit I have to work very hard because unlike writing I had no love for exercise in the beginning and unlike writing I didn’t have any natural advantages and I was fucking terrified of my own body besides. I came to love exercise though and while I still have some of the worst coordination in a human being that I have ever witnessed I have actually gotten pretty damn good at certain things. I have even taught exercise classes which I actually enjoyed (and no not in that weird manic overly cheerful way). I don’t make myself run because people think running is fabulous I hate running, it is boring as fuck to me, but I have found things I do enjoy and I have even come to enjoy challenging myself physically. I don’t think happiness is something that just happens to other people, I have come to realize that if you want anything at all, you’ve got to work your ass of for it. Nothing is easy. It’s not supposed to be. You know what’s fair? Death but life, life isn’t fair. I don’t expect or even desire to be in the same mood all the time one reason I don’t touch psychotropic meds but I also don’t want to waste so much of my energy on self-hatred and self-sabotage.

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