Happiness as a Way of Life

This week's quote reads, "Happiness is not a destination, it is a way of life."

Without being too Pollyanna-ish about it, I have to say I agree. I think this is where the authors of the American Declaration of Independence got it wrong, with their insistence on the rights to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" (italics mine). 

As a result, most of us think of happiness as a far-off goal, which we must pursue by any means available to us. But here's the thing: it cannot be bought; it can only be appreciated, right here, right now. If we see it as a far-off goal, we will miss all the micro-moments of happiness happening to us today.

Of course, there will be times in all our lives when we are distinctly unhappy, for a variety of good reasons. But most of the time, we have a base level of happiness, to which we return naturally, no matter what life throws at us. I came across a fascinating blogpost on the Scott Free Clinic website, which explains it like this: "Psychologists gave this pattern a memorable name - the hedonic treadmill - after noticing how quickly people get used to both windfalls and setbacks. In the early 1970s Philip Brickman and Donald Campbell argued that people adapt to good and bad changes and then return toward a typical level of happiness. ... That typical level is often called a happiness set point - not a single emotion frozen in stone, but a familiar baseline your mood tends to orbit. Inherited biological factors largely determine the happiness set point, with temperament traits - a key expression of these genetic influences - shaping how emotions respond to life events. The brain's habit of adaptation then nudges feelings back toward this familiar baseline after spikes of delight or dips of discouragement."

Which is, I guess, why some people (like me) tend to be happier (most of the time) than others. Which I know can be very irritating for the others! Yet I do believe that the potential for happiness is all around us, if we are only aware enough to notice the tiny good things which happen to us every day.  I have a daily gratitude practice, which consists of recording in my journal three things which I am grateful for each day, last thing at night. They may be tiny, unimportant things, but they are there. Last night, I was grateful for an idea for a new scene for my work in progress; for good progress on my current cross-stitch project, and for participating in a lively and fascinating discussion about the favourite books we had read in 2025, at my local Writers' Group. Nothing very life-changing, or earth-shaking, but they made me happy.

What has made you happy over the last few days?

With Heart and Mind

 "Follow your heart, but take your mind with you." Such a lovely quotation to begin a new year.

Because both are necessary, if we are to lead a happy and fulfilling life. Mind without heart is efficient, effective, productive, but can also be sterile, unhappy, uncaring. Heart without mind is intuitive, emotional, spiritual, loving, but can also be biased, impulsive, unwise.

In 1959, the Lindsey Press published a slim volume entitled Essays in Unitarian Theology: A Symposium. Edited by Rev. Kenneth Twinn, who was at that time minister of Chowbent Unitarian Chapel in Atherton, Lancashire, it has eight different contributions by eminent Unitarian theologians. All make fascinating readings, but the one which really spoke to me was the first contribution, by Twinn himself. It was called A Personal Affirmation and I would like to share the first few sentences, as for me, they sum up what Unitarian theology should be about - living with heart and mind together.

"What I look for in religion is a system of thought that will give meaning to life - not necessarily that will answer all the questions I might raise, but that will give coherence to my experience of the totality; and a meaning which will at the same time suggest a way of life, involve a commitment or categorical imperative (to us whatever may be the jargon of the age), of the whole. The conclusions I have reached, the system I have evolved... is far from complete... It is not original, but influenced by what I have been taught, by patterns of thinking in which I have been brought up. I confess that I can never be ultimately satisfied with it, and that I ought to keep on examining it and modifying it, but it is something I can live by now. I recognise that it should not conflict with any facts that have been scientifically demonstrated, but equally it must respond to and correspond with all sides of my nature, spiritual and emotional as well as purely rational: my insight as well as my five senses. Therefore it has a poetical as well as logical expression."

So perhaps it is up to each of us to formulate our own theology; our own system of thought and belief that will satisfy not only our minds but also our hearts. And, crucially, it must be a system of thought and belief which can be lived by, not just pretty words and ideas talked about on a Sunday. A combination of heart and mind together, which will enable us to live wise and happy lives.

 

 

Christmas Carols

I love singing Christmas carols. It is that time of year when I cheerly put aside my Unitarian doubts and rejoice in the Christmas story, when a little child was born, who has brought hope to the world. Christmas Carol Services are very popular with Unitarians, with chapels, churches and meeting houses hosting larger than usual congregations.

I love playing them too, and singing them at home. The two carol books above contain simplified versions of many popular carols, which I can still play, albeit slowly.

I was looking through the books the other day, and was fascinated by the rich mixture of beliefs and traditions they represent. Because the Christmas story is a complex one - Matthew tells one story (Jesus born in a house in Bethlehem, the Magi coming to visit him, the flight into Egypt, and eventual relocation to Nazareth) and Luke tells quite another (the journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem, the birth in a stable, the shepherds coming to worship the child, the return to Nazareth). And today, it is all mashed together into one not-quite-Biblical story, re-enacted by young children each year.

There seem to be fewer carols which tell only Matthew's version of the story: We Three Kings, Three Kings from Persian Lands Afar, As With Gladness, Men of Old, and Star of the South, for example. But more which tell only Luke's version: Away in a Manger, While Shepherds Watched, See Amid the Winter's Snow, Silent Night, Once in Royal David's City, and It Came Upon the Midnight Clear. 

Many carol writers bit the bullet and went for both: The First Nowell, O Come All Ye Faithful, O Little Town of Bethlehem,, the Zither Carol, Unto Us a Boy is Born, Angels from the Realms of Glory, Past Three O'Clock, What Child is This? and Rejoice and Be Merry.

There are also many carols which are about the older, Pagan elements of Christmastide, or about Medieval Christmas customs. Examples include Here We Come a Wassailing, Deck the Hall, The Holly and the Ivy, O Christmas Tree, and The Boar's Head Carol. Others are simply joyful Christmas songs: We Wish You a Merry Christmas, The Twelve Days of Christmas, Christmas is Coming, Jingle Bells and Ding Dong Merrily on High.

There are even some which commemorate events which happened during the Christmas season: Good King Wenceslas ("on the feast of Stephen") and the heart-breaking Coventry Carol, which tells the story from Matthew's gospel of the massacre of the Holy Innocents.

But none of this matters. What matters is that Christmas brings people together, and reminds us that hope can be born in the darkest of times, and that there is still room, still time, for coming together to worship and rejoice, to spend time with the people we love.

Merry Christmas!

The Key to Happiness

I completely agree with this week's quote: "The key to happiness comes from within."

Or, as Monty Python's Four Yorkshiremen had it, "Money doesn't buy you happiness, son." I know from seeing and reading countless stories on social media and elsewhere, that material goods are not the key to happiness - they may make you feel good for a moment, but true happiness is an inside job.

At the same time, the relationship between material well-being and happiness is not quite that simplistic. If we are short of the necessaries of life - food, shelter, physical safety, someone to love and be loved by, happiness can be hard to find. I see far too many horrible stories about families having to choose between paying for food and paying for heating, particularly at this time of year. Which is an obscenity, in this country (or anywhere else, frankly) when the top few in the human hierarchy have money and material possessions in abundance, and pay their accountants to exploit loopholes in the taxation laws, while a large minority are starving, and either homeless or living in (very) sub-standard accommodation (often owned by that rich top few). There is far too much inequality in the world.

Yet I still believe that the key to happiness does come from within. Because the only thing we can control is how we respond to the circumstances we find ourselves in. Our reactions, our emotions, are the key to inner happiness. I hold up my hand and admit that I am very privileged - I live in a nice house, have all the material possessions I could possibly desire, and time to enjoy them. I have a close family and a few good friends. So I have plenty to be happy about. And I am, by and large.

I think the key to happiness is appreciation - being aware of all the good things we do have, and not wasting time yearning about the (unimportant) material goods we don't have. Which takes a certain level of self-awareness and a strong desire not to be seduced by the advertising / marketing industries into wanting random stuff, just because we've seen an advert on Facebook. (For the last couple of months, I keep seeing adverts for lovely Christmas jumpers and think, "Oh, I'd love one of those." I have to keep reminding myself that I already own a perfectly good Christmas jumper, which has served me well for years. And that is only one, tiny, insignificant example). It is far too easy to buy stuff these days - one click and you're committed.

So let's appreciate what we have, and commit to helping those less fortunate than ourselves.

Here and Now

This week's quote has some simple advice, which most of us find really difficult to follow. It reads, "Learn from the past, dream of the future, but live here and now."

Far too many of us (me included) either regret the past, or tinsel-wrap it with the fake memories which are nostalgia, looking back to a golden time which never really existed. Learning from the past, learning from our mistakes and experiences, is a taller order, and it can be tempting to simply walk away. 

And we dream of a future in which all our problems will magically dissolve into the aether, leaving us blissfully happy. Or we fixate on a particular day which is coming "soon" and spend all our emotional and spiritual energy longing for it, forgetting to live in the meantime.

What we don't do enough of, in my opinion, (and I'm speaking personally here) is to "live here and now". To wake up each morning and resolve to make *this* day a good one, to the best of our ability. To be awake, aware of the possibilities of the day as it unfolds, to appreciate the good things as they happen, to find the strength within ourselves to stand fast in our truth when things go awry.

Whenever I find myself either stuck in the past or impatient for the future, I remember the wonderful words attributed to the Sanskrit poet, Kalidasa:

"Look to this day!

For it is life, the very life of life.

In its brief course lie all the verities

and realities of your existence:

the bliss of growth,

the glory of action,

the splendour of beauty;

For yesterday is but a dream,

and tomorrow is only a vision;

but today, well lived, 

makes every yesterday a dream of happiness

and every tomorrow a vision of hope.

Look well, therefore, to this day."

Look well, therefore, to this day. 

Dancing in the Rain

This week's quote reads, "The art of living consists in dancing in the rain instead of waiting for the sun."

On a metaphorical level, I couldn't agree more. Now is always the time to get out and do what makes you happy, regardless of the whatever else is going on. Procrastination "I'll do it when I feel more confident / I've lost ten pounds / I have an entire free day / I've finished my work / make up your own excuse" is not only the thief of time, it is also the thief of happiness. Sometimes, the right thing to do is to drop everything and simply dance in the rain. Which stands for any spontaneous action which brings us joy.

The "waiting for the sun" is the toxic part of the quote. Because, let's face it, our lives will never be perfect, never be ideal. Most of us will be able to come up with a dozen 'good reasons' for not doing something new, something brave, without even having to scratch our heads very hard. It's never quite the 'right time'.

It takes a lot of courage, and a good dollop of the willingness to be vulnerable, and a certain amount of faith, to dance in the rain - to risk trying something new, that we've never done before, that we're not sure about. But being brave, being vulnerable, having faith in ourselves, in the universe, is how we grow into our best selves.

But on a literal level, I have issues. I hate being wet through... And yes, I appreciate the truth of the saying, "there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing." I'm quite happy to walk in cold weather, bundled up in warm coat, hat, scarf and gloves. It is invigorating. But walking in the rain (let alone dancing in it) is not my bag. Especially now I wear glasses all the time. Call me a wuss, but that is one occasion I'd rather "wait for the sun". I have done it, and will doubtless do it again, but it's not my favourite thing to do.

Beautiful Mistakes

This week's quote reads, "Anyone who always tries to do everything right might miss out on the most beautiful mistakes of their life."

As a recovering perfectionist, this quote hit hard. Back in the day, perfection was the goal and I would strive constantly to get there. But never quite did (of course). I have blogged about this before, here. These days, I have learned that "good enough" usually is just that - good enough. If I have made an (almost) invisible mistake in the latest crochet project, which doesn't make a difference to the overall look, I'll let it go.

The Japanese have a special term for imperfection in life: wabi-sabi. According to Wikipedia, "In traditional Japanese aesthetics, wabi-sabi centres on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. It is often described as the appreciation of beauty that is 'imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete'. It is prevalent in many forms of Japanese art." It goes on to say, "Wabi-sabi combines two interrelated concepts: wabi and sabi. According to the Stanford Encyclopaedia of Philosophy, wabi may be translated as 'subdued, austere beauty' and sabi as 'rustic patina'. ... Characteristic principles of wabi-sabi aesthetics and principles include asymmetry, roughness, simplicity, economy, austerity, modesty, intimacy, and the appreciation of natural objects and the forces of nature."

How can we apply this "acceptance of transience and imperfection" to our lives? Most of us find this a lot harder than the odd mistake in something we have created. And yet, change (which is another word for transience) is the only constant in our lives. No matter how hard we try to attain perfection, stasis, something will happen to knock us off balance. I think we somehow need to find the resilience to accept change and move on. 

I learned this lesson the hard way, through being a parent. As soon as my children were born, I strove to be the best parent I could possibly be, to give them the best childhood they could possibly have. And yet, I made every mistake in the book. I also constantly compared myself to other mothers, to my own detriment. Yet I finally learned the truth of the saying, "You can only give your children two things in life - roots to grow and wings to fly." I often found it the hardest thing in the world to stand back and let them go their own way, and learn from their experiences (and their mistakes). Knowing that, if I interfered, they wouldn't grow into their proper selves. Yet also knowing that if / when they did foul up, I would feel as guilty as hell for not intervening. In a way, it was the toughest test of my love for them - stepping back out of the centre of their lives and allowing them to become independent beings. I've been so lucky, that both (like me) have learned from their mistakes and  grown up into loving, caring, functional adults.

Perhaps loving well, and accepting (and learning from) our own imperfections, is the best any of us can do.