The Happiness Myth

I'm currently reading a book by Jennifer Michael Hecht titled The Happiness Myth: Why What We think Is Right Is Wrong. She has looked through history to try and figure out what has actually made humans happy - trying to see past cultural myths and look for patterns.
It's a pretty bold attempt, but done very well in my humble opinion. And I think for me, the best part is just taking such a stark look at the idea of happiness in my life.
She says there are three kinds of happiness - euphoric happiness, a good day (or momentary) happiness, and a good life (or long-term) happiness. And when thought about in these three categories, it does seem true that all of life's decisions are meant to contribute to some sort of happiness. My Christian upbringing makes me feel guilty for uttering that statement. I have this idea of sacrifice and guilt and denying pleasures. But the truth is, even in denying pleasures, there's a calculation of a future happiness. Christians create a paradise in the afterlife and invest energy in that happiness even as they may want to deny "good day happiness."
Which isn't to say that Christians can't have a good time, of course, everyone does. My point is that even denial is motivated by a desire for some kind of happiness. It's a calculation. And some form of happiness seems to be a primary motivation in human experience.
So given that this is true, what does make me happy? In the long term? In the short term? How many "good days" do I want and what might I be giving up in the long term if I invest too much in my daily happiness. And have I experienced euphoric happiness in my life? When? Should I do things to seek it? Maybe for a short time?
She looks at drugs, money, bodies and celebrations and gives interesting historical perspectives on these topics. And she has collected wisdom writing from history and reflects on what wisdom can and cannot offer toward happiness.
As I said, I'm finding it refreshing. It's like a little window to help me get beyond the "shoulds" and "should nots" and instead make me think scientifically about happiness. It may sound rather dry, but I am loving the mental games it leads me through. And it's also making me stop and notice the happiness that I have in my life - some of it a gift of grace and some that I've worked for and invested in. And it's made me enjoy my wine and coffee in a whole new way.
So I recommend it, to those of you who enjoy historical analysis and playing with big ideas.

One Thing I Love and One Thing I'm Struggling With

So I just have to tell the universe how much I love reading aloud. I especially love reading aloud to children, because they get so wrapped up in the stories and excited. But I also love reading aloud to anyone who will listen. So far that primarily means Eric, and in the past Marti. If only there were more time for it!

And one thing I'm struggling with...well the one thing I'm willing to share today anyway...that would be having the patience to let myself find a career at my own pace. I have made this intentional decision to step away from full-time work, to let myself explore and see. And yet I get so frustrated when I stop and notice the passage of time and don't see some sort of clear progress on my part. I can be so driven - and in such need of outside validation and approval. I wish I was kinder toward myself and less afraid of missing out on something - some unknown thing.

Two Jewels from Class Last Night

1. Cultural Observations:
Last night a representative from SIT came to get feedback from us, the participants in the TESOL course. SIT always does this to ensure the quality of their courses around the world, and also to gather feedback to help improve upon the course.
So we all provided our praise, and our criticisms, freely. The one Swiss student had very specific feedback and wasted no time outlining anything she felt to be "inadequate" or "unacceptable." The one Turkish student, by contrast, got a guilty look on her face when everyone started to let loose about a certain topic. She leaned over to another participant and said, "I never used to be like this, always complaining. America has changed me. When I go back to Turkey, it's going to be a problem. Everyone will look at me and think I am stuck up. Now, in America, I don't hesitate to send back food or complain. But I think I need to change. It's not good, this feeling of never being satisfied."

2. And I found a touching poem while looking for a reading text. I love Seamus Heaney.

Scaffolding
by Seamus Heaney

Masons, when they start upon a building,
Are careful to test out the scaffolding;

Make sure that planks won't slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.

And yet all this comes down when the job's done,
Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.

So if, my dear, there sometimes seems to be
Old bridges breaking between you and me,

Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall,
Confident that we have built our wall.

Home

Eric has been feeling discouraged by the direction his job is taking lately. So when someone from England called him about a job, he decided to inquire further. It's strange how that idea entering our lives has clarified other things. For example, we would be incredibly sad to sell our apartment. This weekend will mark one year and for the first time in who knows how long, we both feel like it's home. And even if I'm still trying to find my way in NYC, I do feel like I've invested myself here. It would be discouraging to pick up and start over again.
Last night as I was drifting off to sleep, I remembered the feeling I always get right after moving. I feel as if I'm playing make-believe for the first few weeks in a new house. When I fall asleep I have to remind myself that this new location is now my home. But it's strange at first. And when I wake up in the morning, there's a moment of realization that I'm not where I expected.

The Body

After listening to another awesome Speaking of Faith (Krista Tippett is my hero) I've been thinking about the mind-body connection. I listened to her interview Mathew Sanford, a paralyzed man who teaches yoga. A couple of things said in the interview have been rattling around in my head:
1. As people become more aware of the body and live from the body, they become more compassionate.
2. No one is as embodied as a six year old boy. (said laughing and in passing - but I have really liked to think about that simple statement.)
3. The body has a memory of its own.

Then today I went to a storytelling workshop, Belly Laughs and Beyond. The workshop leader, Bob Reiser, had us do all kinds of activities to loosen up our bodies. We had to try out different laughs - from a titter to a giggle to a belly laugh. We made funny faces and silly noises and passed them around and basically acted like 6 year olds on the playground. Some of the participants, the theater people, jumped in enthusiastically. A few were very hesitant, and the rest of us were somewhere in between. But the longer we made faces and noises, the more our bodies remembered how to be children and the more fun we all began to have. And in between these "silly" breaks, we told our stories. We each worked on something of our choice and told it to a partners and got feedback from those partners. And by the end, a story that had been very rough was tumbling out of me with great timing.
I left this workshop to meet Eric in Washington Square park to check out the after party from the first NYC Dance Parade. I followed the swing music and was delighted to find a dancing crowd. Some people were hula-hooping, a group formed to start a jump rope circle, a drummer and belly dancer performed off to the side, and the audience around the stage erupted when the DJ sang "Everybody dance now!" I stood on the side of the fountain with my yellow umbrella soaking in the joy.
The body knows how to celebrate life! All I've got to do is move it and I remember that joy. Here's to claiming the uninhibited movement of six-year olds!

Encouragement

I was noticing this week how big a part encouragement plays in teaching. I was feeling a little stuck with a student of mine. I was pushing her in a way that was feeling frustrating for both of us and not getting her to the point of discovery that I was hoping for. She was pulling back from me emotionally and responding with more fear to the activities I proposed. So yesterday I decided to have a short celebration time. I suggested we make a list of all the books she's finished, and I excitedly praised her progress, declaring it amazing to see how much she's done. While doing this, she broke down and told me that she wasn't doing so well in math and she was really nervous about her times tables. This was a break through, because then I could understand the behavior from earlier in the day.
She brought in her flashcards and we started practicing, and then she broke into tears announcing that it was impossible to memorize three sets of times tables before Monday's Math Bee. She had so much going on this weekend, it just wasn't going to be possible! I went into hyper encouragement mode, helping her to notice past success and reminding her of her abilities. Then I helped her break the task down into more manageable chunks and brainstormed some strategies that she could use to fit in the practicing over her busy weekend. And I left her to start practicing with the last 20 minutes that we had, saying I'd come back to quiz her before I left. When I returned, she was a new girl. She had tackled the 3's, and just about memorized them.
And I witness this with adults too. They don't often allow the tears to fall, but they reach points of utter frustration where they just want to give up. And if I can find a way to give hope and provide a simpler task that they CAN accomplish, they will find new resolve to stick with the learning process.
It can feel so hopeless when one is learning something new. And in the frustration, the learner often can't see any progress. But it's enlightening to be the teacher in such situations and to see the progress so clearly. And to realize that the point of greatest despair is often right before the breakthrough.

Cinco de Mayo

This May 5th marks my 5th anniversary in NYC. On May 5, 2002 I arrived in La Guardia airport with my two suitcases and took a taxi for the second time to my apartment in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. My friend had done the hard work of finding an affordable place to live. We got the apartment in April, and I had visited once for a final interview with the NYC Teaching Fellows before the move. When I arrived, I had about six weeks before my summer intensive training would start, and I filled those days looking for affordable furniture, exploring the city, and swing dancing.

I love to remember those first weeks in the city. New York felt so big, scary, and tantalizing. Navigating the subway system and walking through new neighborhoods would set the butterflies in my stomach fluttering. I felt vulnerable, living off of my savings in a city where I had no family to save me. And I felt emboldened to be making this big change.
I arrived in the ideal season. In spring, the city blooms and comes to life with outdoor activities and free events. I knew I was about to enter into an extremely difficult program, but I embraced the challenge. I was idealistic and ready to see something new of the world.

NYC has worn down a lot of that idealistic naivete. It also became the place where I've made a home and a life for myself. It's my place, a place where I grew up and became wiser. I've done a lot in five years.

What's changed in the last five years:
1. I've changed apartments twice.
2. I've lived in three boroughs.
3. I earned my teaching license and a Master's degree.
4. I taught and quit teaching.
5. I worked at Scholastic for 2 years and quit that job.
6. I got married.
7. My husband and I bought a coop apartment.

I wonder what the next five years will bring. Happy Cinco de Mayo.