Finding the Happiness Channel

When the bell strikes midnight, your gown ball turning from glitter and fairy tales to ashes and drudgery and you from the belle of the ball to the scullery maid, you can be sure you're in the heart of February.

It's time for a winter retreat. Our brains and bodies cry out for unplugging, turning down the volume, finding a way out of the 24/7 cacophony of email, meetings, to-do lists.  It's time to rest and notice the everyday things that make us happy, the things right within reach. Betsy Lerner calls it "that which cannot be extinguished even in the face of silence, solitude and rejection" which pretty much sums up February.

Credit: K. Thorne (Caltech) and
T. Carnahan (NASA GSFC) -
 See more here

 Recently scientist discovered the faint sound of two gigantic black holes colliding, the silent boom echoing for billions of years, only now heard.  Happiness is like that ancient echo.  It's ready for the taking, only you've got to have the right receiver to pick up the signal.

February, especially this Leap Year February with it's extra day gives us an extra chance at discovering happiness.

Happiness used to seem random and chancy to me, like a fairy god-mother who can change you from scullery maid to princess, but only for a few hours. Most days ended without even a squeak of happiness. Life felt like a forced march towards some gloomy end. Years went by with happiness just out of reach, each day another grey and gloomy February day.

Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue. -- Eugene O'Neill

My happiness receiver was broken and needed mending. Fortunately we are never alone when we've lost our way, God or Jesus or a higher power, however you think of it, the Universe even, is right there with us in our muddle and confusion willing and able to help us dial into the happiness channel, to find our way.

Rest
The natural world is resting in February. The Universe makes sure we get the point by covering the fields with feet of snow. Sure the Bible quotes God's call for resting on the seventh day, but did he really mean me?  Does he really mean you?  As it turns out he did mean me and he does mean you. We were designed to need at least seven hours of sleep.

After a few months of getting enough sleep passed, a little of the cloud and darkness of my February mind started to lift. I'd found the happiness signal, even if I couldn't quite hear it clearly.

Practicing Gratitude
I found the happiness channel by noticing who and what makes me happy.  Sounds simple, but the reason I wasn't dialed in on the happiness channel 24/7 was that happiness is so ordinary, I didn't notice it like lint clinging to everything.

I began a practice of noticing by recording five things I was grateful for each day, a gratitude journal. Journaling, every day, did a lot to fine tune reception of the happiness channel.

At first, there was a lot of static on the happiness channel, only the most obvious signals got through like a good cup of coffee.  Getting bored with finding ways to describe that first cup of coffee in the morning, I started noticing subtler happiness signals.

Like grapefruit spoons with their serrated edges, cutting out all the messy slicing of grapefruit flesh from membrane. Prince Charming introduced me to grapefruit spoons and to so much more happiness.  When I look at the the grapefruit spoons nestled neatly in the silverware drawer, it reminds me of spooning with Prince Charming before we fall asleep, the happiest moment of every day. Now, even when I'm not eating grapefruit, just opening the silverware drawer brings me happiness-- static-free, clear happiness channel getting through the clutter of a busy life.

Still some days static drowned out the happiness signal.  The static sounded a lot like the voice of the Crazy Old Lady who lives in my head, busy making judgements about me and everyone else. The Crazy Old Lady is always striking the midnight bell,  anxious to turn us from Cinderella back to the scullery maid we all know we are underneath whatever thin veil of success and accomplishment we may have used to cover the humbleness of our "true" talents.  The static screeches, "who do you think your are?!" over and over until it can drown out the happiness channel signal.

Meditation
Some good people I know, Pastor Peter, and  others I've read suggested they'd been able to filter out the static with meditation practice. Imagine my delight at the easy-peasy and oh so indulgent sounding sitting and do nothing for 20 to 30 minutes each day.

I thought they said that the meditation practice would shut-up the Crazy Old Lady.  I misunderstood.

It's not easy to sit for 20 to 30 minutes while the Crazy Old Lady rips. She's got a lot to say. She's not going to shut-up and she resents my shushing her. Given a platform, she takes full advantage.

After a while; when she's broken every dish in the house, hurled all the insults she can think of, and questioned your worth, her act gets boring.  You don't take it all so personally anymore. She runs out of new things to accuse. And maybe you start to think OK. I'm really as bad as she says, but I'm still a child of God, human, broken, impaired, selfish, egotistical and still here.

Maybe you move just the tiniest way towards accepting even the most broken parts of yourself.  You learn to live with the Crazy Old Lady in your head, her constant banter fades into the background. It's still there and she can crank it up from time to time, especially when you do anything new and difficult or life tosses you into a storm. The happiness signal may fade in and out, but you know how to dial the channel in anytime you choose.

February, with its gloom, grey, silent days when the thrill of winter is gone and spring is a breathy promise unrealized, is a time to dial down the the daily static and crank the happiness channel. God is the glue that can mend our brokenness, if we will only sit silently, after getting enough sleep and counting our blessings.

You, dear reader, are one of my blessings. Wishing you well into this leap year. Take good care of each other until next week.

Cabin Fever Cure

The wind blows, the snow falls and silence fills the air on wintry nights here in the heartland. It can get a little lonely, just Prince Charming and me looking at each other over dinner.  There's no gossip to share, no news from friends and neighbors.








I haven't seen the neighbors in weeks.  We rush in and out before our noses and fingers freeze.

There's the muffled wave to Mike, our neighbor across the street as he blows his drive out.  I assume it's Mike. He's so covered in coats, mufflers, hats and gloves, I can't be sure.

The window panes are coated thick with frost so I can't see when Marijo takes the dogs for a walk or catch Larry throwing the ball to his Portuguese water dog. It's a relief when the phone rings and it's Diana inviting us to dinner. There are to be seven of us.  What joy, what relief!

..having bowed to the inevitability of the dictum that we must eat to live, we should ignore it and live to eat...” ― M.F.K. Fisher, An Alphabet for Gourmets

The night for dinner arrives, perfectly frosty and frozen.  We're greeted at the door by Diana, with a fire blazing away, soft music and perfect cocktails.

Everything about Diana's house delights.

The spirited conversation where politics and religion are discussed at length. No one agreeing with anyone else, just like the politicians.  But we seem to have more fun disagreeing than they do. I adore dinner parties when the invited guests know how to disagree without being disagreeable.

Diana sets a beautiful table. One picture won't do it justice.

Here's one more of the centerpiece.  What a clever hostess Diana is. Doesn't a white lace table cloth look just like frosty windows?  All my lace table cloths are yellow.  I guess I'll have to get myself a white one for a pretty winter table.

I've seen these crystal trees before and turned up my nose at how much dusting they'd require. But perched here on a round mirror they're divine.  White, white everywhere you look and so pretty.

I'm always drawn to paper cut outs like this in the store.  But I walk right on by wondering how I'd ever use something like this.  Now I know and I can't wait to buy a snowflake, a heart, something, I don't know what, for St. Patrick's Day, a wonderful bunny or egg for Easter.  So much fun to be had so cheaply!  And to think I've missed out all this time.  Not Diana, she's rolling in the fun.

So elegant!

Dinner is served.  Diana has the perfect set-up for dinner parties.  Her dinning room is separated from the kitchen by a wall entered through a swinging door.  I know "open" plan is all the rage.  But if you're cooking dinner for seven people it is ever so much easier on the hostess if there's a little separation from the "mess" in the kitchen. As you can see Diana doesn't make much of a mess, but she makes an absolutely to die for dinner.

Diana started us off with cauliflower soup. Count me a cauliflower skeptic. But Diana's soup won me over. The soup was followed by melt in your mouth short ribs (recipes to follow).

"People who love to eat are always the best people.” Julia Child

Dessert was accompanied by a home made cherry cordial.  The cherries come from Diana's trees. Her son picks them when they are ripe in July and makes the cordial.  

How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment?  Vita Sackville-West

The cherry cordial tasted of summer heat and ripeness, like eating cherries right off the tree, only sweeter and less buggy by far.

Prince Charming and I strolled arm-in-arm to the car under the indigo blackness of a moonless winter night.  The velvety darkness pin-pricked with star light, winter's cold seeping back into bones warmed with friendship, fire, food and wine the only known cure for cabin fever.

Here are Diana's recipes for cauliflower soup and short ribs.

Vegan Creamy Curried Cauliflower Soup

2 T extra virgin olive oil

2 medium white onions, thinly sliced

1/2 t. kosher salt

4 cloves garlic, minced

2 lb. head of cauliflower, trimmed and cut into florets

4 1/2 c. vegetable broth

1/2 t. coriander

1/2 t. turmeric

1 1/4 t. cumin

1c. coconut milk

Heat oil in large pot over medium heat till shimmering.  Cook the onions and 1/4 t. salt until onions are soft and translucent, 8-9 min.  Reduce heat to low, add garlic and cook additional 2 min.  Add rest of ingredients incl. remaining salt.  Bring to boil, then simmer till cauliflower is tender.  Puree in a blender in small batches or in the pot using an immersion blender.  Stir in coconut milk and warm the soup.  Adjust seasoning.  Serves 8.

Slow Cooker Short Rib Stroganoff

5 T flour, divided  

 1 T smoked paprika, divided

3 lbs. boneless short ribs

2 T oil   

 8 oz. whole mushrooms, cut in half

1 onion, coarsely chopped

4 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 t. black pepper

3 T Worcestershire sauce

1 c. sour cream

Mix 4 T flour and 1 t. paprika.  Add to ribs; toss to evenly coat.  Heat oil in large skillet on medium heat.  Add ribs; cook 5 min until evenly browned, turning occasionally.  Place ribs in slow cooker, top with remaining ingredients incl. rest of paprika, except sour cream.  Cook on HIGH 6 hours or LOW 8-10 hours.  Remove ribs from cooker and tear into bite size pieces.  Return to slow cooker with sour cream and remaining 1 T flour.  Cook, covered, on LOW 10-15 min. or until slightly thickened.  Serves 8.

Vegan Creamy Curried Cauliflower Soup

2 T extra virgin olive oil

2 medium white onions, thinly sliced

1/2 t. kosher salt

4 cloves garlic, minced

2 lb. head of cauliflower, trimmed and cut into florets

4 1/2 c. vegetable broth

1/2 t. coriander

1/2 t. turmeric

1 1/4 t. cumin

1c. coconut milk

Heat oil in large pot over medium heat till shimmering.  Cook the onions and 1/4 t. salt until onions are soft and translucent, 8-9 min.  Reduce heat to low, add garlic and cook additional 2 min.  Add rest of ingredients incl. remaining salt.  Bring to boil, then simmer till cauliflower is tender.  Puree in a blender in small batches or in the pot using an immersion blender.  Stir in coconut milk and warm the soup.  Adjust seasoning.  Serves 8.

Felling a little cabin feverish yourself?  Call the neighbors, invite them over. Until next week, take good care of each other.

Adventure

When we were children there was so much to learn: how to tie our shoes, how to ride a bike, how to use a fork properly, timing a belch outside your mother's hearing to the delight of your friends and the disgust of your sister.

Failure and frustration were our constant companions along with sitting in time out while our sister smiled smugly just out of reach.

Slowly, painfully we learned with scraped knees and injured pride how to master riding a bike, write our own name.

As children, just as we mastered one skill another challenge presented itself. Once we'd learned to make our mark, the teachers introduce cursive writing.  Here we were back in the trenches together making  curvy, looping, shaky letters.

We graduated. Went off to college. Learned to manage our calendars, our bank accounts and our hearts. We slipped into comfortable routines. We became ourselves with mortgages and children's schedules, car maintenance and a yard to mow.

Those heady days of adventure and self discovery behind us, we became, at least in our own minds, a respectable, functioning adult. This gig of adulthood can be a weary treadmill. Our lives still contain failure and frustration, but it's an anxious kind of frustration full of questions: will I make the deadline, do I measure up, will the downsizing impact me? This adult failure and frustration has none of the joy of the wind in our hair as we bike down the street, wobbling from side to side.

Six or seven years ago, I found myself kayaking on Lake Superior with a group of couples and men. Prince Charming was back on shore, sick with a cold. The two person kayaks and those powered by the men, were soon far ahead of me as I struggled with the wind and waves and office worker arms to pull my paddles through the water with any kind of competence.

At first I was mad. I was mad that I was so weak.  I was mad at Prince Charming for being sick. I was mad at the others for not waiting.

And then something wonderful happened.  A tiny little shift of heart. Instead of being a mad, middle-aged woman in a kayak.  I was a six-year-old falling off my bike, skinning my knee on the gravel drive, crying mad, hot tears.

Suddenly I remembered that it all worked out.  I can ride a bike and tie my shoes and write my name in cursive, even if it's still shaky and barely legible.

I spent the rest of the time paddling and thinking about how comfortable I'd become in my routine. I'd put my heart in a safe deposit box and lost the key. It was time to search for the key to novelty and adventure.

Isn't it always true that when we go looking for something, we'll find it? I found my fount of inspiration in author and illustrator Vivian Swift's work and books--When Wanders Cease to Roam and Le Road Trip--A Traveler's Journal of Love and France.

Ms. Swift's beautiful watercolors of the everyday

Courtesy of Vivian Swift's blog

beauty

That is so easily overlooked, taken for granted

inspired me to tackle my own adventure--watercolor painting.

This adventure has been full of failure and frustration and many, many bad paintings. It's been like falling down Alice's rabbit hole into another world familiar and strange, in which skill is like the Cheshire Cat, fading in and out of view.  I've learned that tree bark is purple and blue and rocks are orange.

Routine feels comfortable and pretty soon it feels tired, worn, boring. Adventure lies within your grasp.  Check your heart out of the safety deposit box. Embrace the childish sense of adventure.  Take a piano lesson, zen doodle your heart out, rock out in a Zumba class, splash and thrash your way across a swimming pool. Life is so much richer.  

My adventure in painting has been an adventure in giving up the rather rigid confines of ego and control. It shatters my sense of competency. Doing something badly day after day, with only a little glimmer that I'm getting better makes me think twice before offering some unwanted, sure to be brilliant, piece of advice. Maybe I don't know as much as I think I know. Maybe life isn't as certain as I'd like it to be.  And then there's the thrill of seeing it all go well, only to ruin it with the next brush stroke and then paint my way back into beauty. Painting tests the power of fortitude, forgiveness and redemption.  

Anything that you do that invokes the childish sense of failure and frustration will send you through that amazing fortitude, forgiveness, redemption loop.  Go give it a try.

Take good care of each other friends until next week.