Stupidly Happy

The play was over.  Fulfilled theatre-goers streamed past me on their way to wine, or home, or late night coffees.  I smiled, as I am wont to do, wishing them well as they left the theatre.

An old high school teacher of mine sauntered up to me.  We hadn’t seen each other in many, many (too many to count) years.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked, face drawn carefully into neutral.  “Are you stupid?”  Gasps all around as those in the vicinity heard his words.

I smiled even wider.  “Sure.” I agreed good naturedly.  “I like to smile.  Smiling’s my favorite.” While he didn’t quite smile back, I did hear his gruff laughter as he wandered away.

I get his point.  The world lately, has given little reason to make us smile.  I find myself squinting through barely open fingers as I open my web browser, afraid of what I might find.  Facebook has become riddled with landmines of stark negativity, and hatred.  There seems to be doom and gloom all around us.  Plus winter is stretching into spring and the gray days can be downright depressing.

But I like to smile.  Despite all of the nasty crap that is happening.

For years I have had the Optimist’s Creed, by Christian D. Larson, hanging up in my room.  Each morning as I dry my hair and drink my coffee I glance up at the words.  Sometimes I read a line or two.  Most days it is just a blur of non recognition, similar to the color of paint on the walls.  You see something often enough you stop seeing it.

My old teacher’s words brought up the first line of the Creed for me, making me stop and ponder.

“I promise myself to be so strong that nothing can disturb my peace of mind.”

I am an optimist.  I have been called a Polly Anna by some, and an idiot with my head in the sand by others.  I do see the glass as half full, and am grateful for the glass, and the lovely liquid inside.  The world looks brighter when I wear my rose colored glasses and I refuse to allow anything to disturb my peace of mind.

Happiness is an inside job.  I figured this one out a long time ago.  I realized that I had waited and waited, deferring my right to be happy until X, Y and Z happened.  But then X, Y and Z would happen and I would still not feel happy.  It didn’t take me long (only about 45 years or so) to figure out that what I needed to do was to make the decision to feel happy.  Nothing had to happen to make it so.  I could just wake up each morning, yawn, stretch and BELIEVE that today was a great day to be happy, and VOILA… I would be happy.

When the world turns upside down and I am inundated with the images of racism, fear, hatred, Trump, explosions, war, and, and, and….. I am not foolish enough to believe that by smiling I will save the world.  But, I am wise enough to know that by worrying, fretting and being frustrated  by things I have no control over, I am stealing peace from myself.

So despite what is happening in the world, I smile.  I choose peace.  I choose to continue to be optimistic, even if it seems foolish.

I choose to be stupidly happy.

And here is a song to help you be Stupidly Happy too.

My Message from Wayne

I haven’t shared this recording with many people until now.  It happened a few years ago and I know a lot of you have read about this experience.  I felt compelled to share this message that I saved… this is the first time I heard from Dr. Wayne Dyer.

It holds such a special place in my memory, and I hope it brings some joy for all of you to hear his voice again.  <3

Wayne

5 Great Reasons to Smile

Em 'n' Me
Em ‘n’ Me

I used to have this pet peeve. It drove me a bit nuts, actually. I’d be walking along, not really thinking about anything good or bad. I assumed my face was set to neutral, when some well-meaning passerby would tell me to “Smile!” For a very long time, if that happened I would allow it to ruin my whole day. Mostly because as soon as they would command it of me, I would find myself smiling at them like some sort of trained monkey.

And then I would walk away, scowling. Don’t tell me to smile. I’ll smile when I want to smile, not when you tell me to smile.

And then I would get paranoid. Was I scowling? Did I look so wretched that a perfect stranger was compelled to tell me to change what I thought was a pleasantly neutral expression into a more socially acceptable one?

And then I would get righteous. Why should I change my expression for your amusement? I was not put on this earth to please you!!!

And then, finally, I would just get frustrated with myself for spending so much time and energy chasing around an insignificant and unimportant pet peeve.

Times have changed and I don`t let little things like that push my buttons nearly as often as they used to. Of course I am not opposed to smiling, but until recently I have not put much effort into smiling more than I`ve felt moved to.

But then I did some research. Thanks Google!

Did you know that smiling, whether you mean it or not, is an important part of maintaining good health?   Even when you fake it, the physiological benefits can`t be denied. In recent studies it has been shown that:

  1. Smiling reduces stress. The simple act of plastering a smile on your face is enough to stop that overactive amygdala from juicing up the fight or flight response. Smiling wide so that it reaches your eyes has the effect of triggering a calming response in the autonomic nervous system.
  2. Smiling helps to lower blood pressure. Makes sense I suppose. If you are lowering stress, then the blood pressure is likely to follow. Many studies have shown that biorhythmic feedback and mindfulness meditation are both excellent at lowering blood pressure to more healthful levels, and now we can add smiling to that non-pharmaceutical bunch.
  3. Smiling releases endorphins and serotonin in the brain. You know those feel-good chemicals that bring on things like the rumored `runner`s high`? These chemicals, when released in our brains, bring us a feeling of wellness and overall happiness. Couldn`t we all use a little more of that?
  4. Smiling gives our immune system a boost. So during cold and flu season don`t just wash your hands and take your Vitamins… get your smile on.
  5. Smiling is one of the leading causes of mood improvement. Not only will it elevate your own mood, it is contagious, spreading good moodiness to those you bestow your pearly whites upon. Smile and the whole world smiles with you? True Science Fact.

So the next time somebody tells me to `Smile` I will do that very thing, thanking them for caring enough about my good health and wellness to give me such sound advice. And better still, I will make a practice of wearing the wide eyed grin as often as possible. By smiling for no good reason, those same `helpful` people might stop wondering what is making me glum and start worrying what I am up to instead.

And that really will give me reason to smile.

 

 

“I never smile if I can help it. Showing one’s teeth is a submission signal in primates. When someone smiles at me, all I see is a chimpanzee begging for its life.”  Dwight Shrute

By and By, Lord

My Grandma was a cool old bird. She told stories, laughed easily and heartily, was a terrible cook but a gifted quilter. She played piano by ear and all we would have to do was hum a few bars and she would pick it up right away. We would sing along for hours and she never seemed to get tired. She took us camping and taught us to play cribbage. She was a terrible gossip but mixed names up so much that it was a harmless pursuit, as nobody knew who had done what to whom after she’d mixed things up so badly. She was joyful and full of life. She devoured Harlequin Romances, sometimes reading 2 or 3 in a day, and would tell me all of the juicy bits, whispering with scandalized glee.

I had the privilege, in my early 20s to look after Grandma while my grandfather was in the hospital recovering from a heart attack. Grandma had heart troubles of her own, so leaving her alone was not an option. At the time I doubt I would have called it a “privilege”. It was summer and all of my friends were back home from University. There were parties and celebrations, beach days and all manner of shenanigans, and there I was on the other side of the province, taking care of my grandmother. But I loved her, and my grandfather had asked. I would never even consider saying no to such a kind, generous and loving man. He was my hero, after all.

Our days were simple. They would start with me waking up, usually around 8 am. As a young adult my preference would have been to sleep until past noon, but each day, as the birds began to sing, Grandma would wander into my room, sit on the side of my bed and start talking. She would talk and talk and keep on talking until I would finally open my eyes and rise for the day ahead.

After eating our breakfast she would have me set her hair in pin curls, preparing for our daily visit to see Grandpa. Even after more than 50 years of marriage she still wanted to look her best before seeing him, making sure her lipstick was straight, her Evening In Paris perfume dabbed on each wrist and behind each ear, and her shiny polyester dress was tidy.

One day as I was winding her white hair into tiny curls, Grandma told me something that has had a lasting and profound effect on my life. She told me that as she had gotten older, as her peers had passed on she had reached a point in her life when nobody called her by her given name anymore. She was “mom”, “grandma”, “Mrs. Burley”… and even Grandpa called her “Mother”. She said it so matter-of-factly, as if she were mentioning that she’d given some old coats to the Thrift Store.

I was appalled! How could something like that happen? To my young, burgeoning feminist ways it seemed as if her true identity had been washed away, leaving only the masks she wore. I couldn’t imagine living my life where nobody actually saw the real me. I swore to myself then and there that I would never let that happen to me.

I am older now and my understanding is deeper. I answer to “mom” and “mrs”, “ma-am” and “aunty”. No “grandma” yet, (which is good because my girl is only 17. I am more than willing to wait for that honor). My husband calls me “Sweetie” and has only ever called me by my given name when speaking of me to another person.

But I am still most certainly, Brenda. You see I have discovered the secret to keeping in touch with the very essence of who I am, outside of the roles I play. The real Me, who was born during youthful slumber parties, who once went skinny dipping in Cottonwood River with my best friends, who remembers falling in love for the first time then having my heart broken… Real, open, funny, vulnerable, feisty and crazy Brenda, has been kept alive and well. It’s been pretty simple, really, to keep in touch with that crazy chick. Here’s my secret:

I have girlfriends. A whole great big circle of them.

I have some I share all my dreams with. I have a few who are as crazy and weird as I am. There are friends I’ve known for decades, yet never met face to face. Some friends share my passion for reading and we talk for hours about the books we love as if they are beloved children. I have my foodie friends and we love to share our passion for all things delicious and juicy. I have friends who lean on me. And I have friends I lean on. We tell each other secrets and then we keep them. We get together in groups, or pairs to laugh and to cry, to hold each other up and keep each other from falling. We celebrate each other’s successes and soothe each other’s disappointments. We are always on each other’s side and we will gladly hate each other’s enemies. We tell each other that we are the best singer/dancer/juggler in the world, even when our talents are questionable. We sing each other’s praises and as our nests empty we teach each other how to fly.

We are a circle so strong and vast and magical that we will ever be unbroken.   My girlfriends, who have seen all of the facets of who I am and love me anyways, I keep them close and cherish each one, for I know that to be truly seen as only our friends can see us is a gift.

And by and by, when time disappears and we are able to reach across the veil, my grandmother will join us. We will open our circle and our arms to embrace her and sing out together: “Welcome, Hazel”!

Do You Believe?

childlike-awe

Do you believe in magic?
I’m not talking about the David Copperfield kind, full of illusion and sleight of hand.
I’m not talking about the boil, boil toil and trouble kind, full of sorcery and black cats.
I’m not even talking about the sorting hat, Dumbledore I-WANT-TO-GO-TO-HOGWARTS kind.
No. What I am talking about is the kind of magic that lights up the eyes of a child the night before Christmas (no matter how old that child is) and fills each moment with breathless possibility.
Magic.
It’s in that space of anticipation, where possibilities become unlimited. Anything can happen! When we keep ourselves in that space of wonder, we allow the magic into our lives.
And that is where we find our miracles.