A Quick Question

I have a quick question for you guys. ("You guys" being anyone inclined to answering.) I'm intrigued by Katie's comments to my last post, and find myself wondering ... what IS happiness, in the first place? How would you, personally, define it? And what is the difference between happiness and joy? Do you know someone who exhibits one or the other? What is it about this person that makes you think they are happy/joyful? Why do you think they are that way?

I'm going to come back to this subject. I have thoughts whirling and twirling around in my head, but I'm going to refrain from writing about them right now because I want to hear from you first. So ... soon.

Meanwhile, I have one more hour of Saturday Morning Bliss before I have to get back to being a responsible adult and get this house cleaned up, dinner thawing, and my Sunday School lesson prepared. It's Palm Sunday tomorrow!

Contemplating Happiness

I took the boys and met Andrea at the park for a picnic today. Of course, she had her two kids plus the three that she watches on Thursdays and Fridays. She'd also invited one of her daughter's friends, and this friend's mother came along and brought yet another kid. Oh, and we ran into Michelle when we got there, which was nice, since I haven't had a chance to talk with her in ages, but with her came three more kids. It was quite the zoo. I'd been really looking forward to seeing Andrea. I'd dared to hope that we would feed the kids, and they would run off and play and leave us to a peaceful chat. Hah! (I'm such a dreamer sometimes.) The only real conversation we got was after we'd gotten the kids back in our respective cars. We stood on the sidewalk between the cars, looking back and forth to make sure no one was escaping, and filled each other in on things we didn't want little ears listening in on. That's it. Five minutes. Seven, tops. But it was worth it.

Someday soon I really want to get together, just the two of us, and go out for coffee or something. But then there's the matter of the five kids between us. Could Kaitlyn handle them all? I bet she could. Hm ... But then, I use her so much because I have to. I hate to take advantage of her. Well, maybe I could pay her, sweeten the deal a little bit! It would be worth it to have an uninterrupted chat with my friend.

Mark asked me, awhile back, why I go out in the garage to talk on the phone. Well, quite frankly, it's for the same reason that I sometimes go into the bathroom to read. Privacy! I try to remember, when it seems like someone is always pulling on my shirttails, always needing something from me, that these days will not last, that someday I may even wish for them back, challenging as they are.

That's one thing I love about two of my newer hobbies: photography and writing haiku. Both require that you be truly present, in this moment. I have had a habit all my life of creating alternate worlds where I could shape things the way I want them to be -- or at least give my characters more power, more oomph that I feel like I possess in real life. And I'm certain I'll never give up that world. Creating stories is such a part of who I am. But I'm also learning to look for and recognize the beauty in the here and now -- in the first blossoms on my strawberry plants, in Casey's belly laugh on the swing, in Andrea's hug ... I could be as rich as Oprah and still not be able to come close to duplicating the beauty of those simple things.

I've been wondering about the source of happiness a lot lately. What makes some people happier than others? I've been told all my life that it's "knowing Jesus." Well, yes, that should make a person happy, if he/she truly believes it, but I've known an awful lot of unhappy believers. And wealth is definitely not the trick. Or power. Or entertainment. Sure, these things can make life easier, but do they make a person happier? In the long run, no. Anybody who follows the news knows that it's not so. Then what is it? What is it that makes a person happy? I think it's two things, really.

First, I think it's being able to see beyond oneself, to see the bigger picture, to realize one's own insignificance. True, that can be depressing, but it can also be freeing. If I am the canvas, I feel the pressure to be perfect. But if I am just an string, I am free to be limp in the Master's hand, free to add my tiny bit of color to the picture ... and depart. Nothing more is asked of me.

Secondly, I think happiness has to do with living our lives with our eyes wide open. That's one thing I love about having children. You tell an adult, "Hey, look! A cherry tree!" And he or she is likely to mumble, "Hmph," or something equally inspiring. (Or as an adult once said as we passed beneath a gloriously golden tree in autumn, "What a mess those leaves are going to be to clean up!") But if I point the same thing out to Brendan, he is awestruck. He is enthralled with the colors of the changing seasons. He has been equally enthralled at times with the ants on our sidewalk. I think my neighbors must think I'm out of my mind to sit out there with my son, feeding cracker crumbs to the ants. We can just sit there for the longest time, watching them work and wondering at their mystery. Honestly? Those of are some of my favorite times. And there's really nothing to them, nothing tangible at least, nothing that can be pinned down for later display. They are elusive. They are transient. And they are absolutely priceless.

Doctors and Waterfalls

We left twenty minutes later than I had planned this morning. You'd think after nearly 14 years of marriage and 13 years of parenthood that it would sink in that it always takes me longer to get the five of us out the door than I think it will. You'd think, after all this time, I'd prepare for that fact and not race around at the last minute like I've misplaced my head. But no. That would make life far too simple . . .

It turned out okay, though. We met Joellen at Fred Meyers. I dashed off to grab donuts, she bought coffee, and Mark popped across the highway to get gas. Then we were off. We got there early and were ushered right back, since we had the first appointment of the day. I felt kind of silly, though, once we got back there. See, we're used to having all of Mark's medical care through Providence. OHSU is not a Providence facility, however. They can't just pull up Mark's records from Newberg ER and take a peek. We have to bring them with us when we go up there. Both of us had completely forgotten about that so the doc really didn't have a whole lot to go on except our explanation of things, when what he really needed was test results, etc. So we'll have to wait for those to get transferred up, etc. But the doctor didn't seem too terribly worried. They set Mark up with a portable cardiac monitor that he's going to keep for a month, since he's been having irregular rhythms sometimes when he lays down. Also, he's been feeling what he describes as "vibrations" in his liver area, which the doc thinks might actually be arrhythmias. (It's interesting to me how sensations in our bodies can actually originate somewhere besides where we end up feeling them.) So I guess ... one day at a time? The doc's calm was reassuring, I must say.

The trip from there to Multnomah Falls only took about a half an hour. Mark drove because I was struggling to stay awake. Then Joellen and I hiked up to the bridge with the boys while Mark and Kaitlyn stayed down below. It's not far. Only 2/10 of a mile, so I'm not sure I can really even climb it as a hike! I remember it as being farther than that. But it was probably about the right distance for the boys. Since I was feeling so awful, I didn't mind cutting it short either.

I did get some good pictures, though! That place is just gorgeous. I remember when Kaitlyn was little, we used to be able to get right up by the falls. After that school bus sized boulder fell off the top of the cliff several years back, they don't let people that close anymore. I suppose that's good. Personally, I don't feel any need to know first hand what it feels like to be under a two ton boulder! But it was so ... I almost said "neat." What writer in their right mind uses the word "neat"? Let's see. It was more of a tactile experience to get right up to the water. (How's that? Better?) But still, it's pretty incredible to see (and feel) from the bridge.

On our way back down, Joellen and I talked about wanting/hoping to come back sometime this summer without small children. We'd like to take the whole hike, to the top. I just might see what I can do about making that happen. Anybody want to join us?

Sifting through Dreams

I am seriously sluggish this morning, so I'll tell you upfront . . . I'm offering no guarantees on the quality or even the coherence of this post. I hit the alarm for half an hour this morning -- something I rarely do because I am generally so eager to get up and write. When I did finally get up, I sat in the rocking chair with my coffee between my hands for another fifteen minutes, trying to shake off the remnants of several disturbing dreams.

I only remember snatches of a couple of them. I cannot go into detail here about those, except to say that they have to do with a friendship that I screwed up several months ago, that has finally begun to mend -- and my fears that I will do something stupid and send it all crashing down again. Have you ever had a friend that you just connected with, from a place deep within yourself? Well, that's what this friendship is like. I've spent so much of my life wandering alone in a crowd, and then I bumped into her and realized . . . this woman gets me! But the thing is . . . I'm not so great with friendships. Elementary school friendships are one thing. You play with the people you're thrown together with. And then in junior high and high school, Dad and Mom were the Hot Shots at our mission field church, so some of their "glory" rubbed off on us. We were "cool" within our own subculture (although no one ever would have called it that). And then college . . . and reality hit. I did make friends, several of them in fact. I have many good memories of times spent with these friends. I also have memories of being a total . . . shall I say, moron? I didn't mean to. I never meant to hurt people. It's just that I say stupid things.

Take, for instance, the size conversation my roommates and I had sophomore year. It must have been four or five years later -- we had graduated and I had Kaitlyn -- and we got together at a restaurant one day. My former roommate Tammy brought up a conversation I had nearly forgotten about. I guess I'd made some comment about how she and Kristine were both larger than me. Well, they were! It wasn't meant to be a slam against them. It was a statement of fact. And then to find out years later that I'd hurt them, that they still remembered that and had been carrying it around all that time . . . It was awful.

After college, I pretty much stuck to my sisters. They love me regardless of what kind of horrendous gaffs I make and I know that they know my heart, that I will not lose them out of something stupid that I say or do. They are safe. They are the only people who have felt safe in my life all these years -- until this particular friend came along. I spent months saying (periodically), "I'm so afraid that I'm going to offend you, that I'm going to hurt you." And she spent months saying, "Relax! You're fine. Don't worry about hurting me." And then . . . I did. And sure enough, I lost her.

Oh, dear. I need to wrap this up and get the boys up. We're meeting Joellen at the Fred Meyers in Newberg, then continuing up to Multnomah Falls, stopping along the way at OHSU for a chat with Mark's specialists about his hardening kidneys and his wacky blood count. It should be fun, once we get going. (The falls part, not the doctor's visit part). But right now I'm SO tired, it just sounds like a lot of driving and keeping track of kids and worrying about one's spouse who probably shouldn't be hiking but who (understandably) couldn't bear to be left at home.

But, briefly, back to what I was saying about this friend . . . I have developed several new friendships during the last two years, and they all mean a great deal to me. It's been a huge stretch for me to make myself vulnerable, to reach beyond my sisters (who I will forever hold closest to my heart) and make other friends. It's just . . . scary, because I'm so bad at it, because I can mess things up so horrendously without even realizing what I'm doing.

My other dream? It was about a car, an old fashioned car, and I was riding in it with my mom and my sisters. I wanted to drive, so they let me, and then I realized that the steering wheel was teeny tiny and that none of the gears or brakes were where I expected them to be. I kept lurching around, running into things, looking like an idiot . . . until the whole vehicle actually fell apart beneath us.

But who's insecure about their ability to develop and maintain relationships? Not me!!! Hah! And if you believe that one, I have a lovely stretch of coastal property in Montana I'd like to sell ya . . .

Thanks! and an Update

This is great! I love reading everyone's response. I hesitated to make another post because I'm hoping that a certain few people will join in and cast their words on the water. If you are one of the Certain Few (and if you think you are, you are), then write away! I've been carrying certain images from your poetry around with me. I'm not going to mention any of them here because I don't want anyone to feel self-conscious. I just want y'all to know how fun and inspiring it has been for me to read your thoughts and words. So ... thanks! Keep it comin'!

I don't have much time this morning, and I've started a new story which is screaming in my ear right now. I really must go give it some attention before I get ready to go over and watch Becca's babes for the morning. But I just wanted to pop in here and update everyone. Last night was a hospital night, and it was rough. Personally, I think that Mark was worn down from trying to be "normal" this last week. Not that I want to stop him! I think it's critical to his health (both emotional and physical) that he be able to go work at the church, see people, go to the park with his kids, and so on. But he was just plain worn to the bone by last night. I really hope that he'll just take it easy today.

Okay! Off to meet with "Tess" for ... forty-five minutes. Yeehah!

Our First Writing Exercise

I'm going to try something new. We'll just see how it goes. I love getting comments from people, having other streams flowing into the river, so to speak. I'd really like to have even more. So I'm going to post some of my favorite writing exercises. If you feel like doing the exercises as well (whether or not you consider yourself a writer), it would make my day if you would post what you wrote in the comments section. Remember, it doesn't have to be great writing. The point of this is simply exploration -- and sharing.

So here goes. From Poemcrazy by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge, answer the following questions. (My answers are in italics. Just substitute your own.)

If I were a color, what color would I be? burgundy
movement -- lurch
sound -- snatches of a hummed symphony
animal -- hummingbird
song -- I can't remember the title, but it's a piano piece full of sadness, hope, and longing.
number -- one
car -- I wouldn't be a car. I'd be a bicycle with a white basket and a baby seat on the back.
furniture -- one of those bowl shaped wicker chairs with lots of cushions
food -- ice cream with nuts
musical instrument -- pan flute
place -- a backyard garden
element in nature -- waterfall
tree -- willow
What is something I'm afraid of? nothingness
What's the word hiding behind my eyes? longing

Now, using what you have written above, write a few lines about yourself, beginning with
I am ...

I am a hummingbird,
stalking bright flower faces,
persistent, alone ...

I am the liquid notes of a pan flute,
barely rising above
the roar of the waterfall.

I am a willow tree,
bent over the banks
of a chortling stream.

Now you try. I can't wait to read about YOU!

To the Coast, Again.

Today was a fabulous day! It started out rough. Mark had a really bad night, and I kept waking up to his moaning. (I do this a lot lately -- spend a few nights downstairs, catch up on my sleep, then start feeling bad about abandoning my hubby at night, go upstairs, get too tired, move back downstairs ...) In the morning, for the second day in a row, I couldn't figure out what that infernal noise by my head was ... or how to turn it off! When I did finally get up, I debated about whether or not I should continue with my plans to go to the beach today. I felt bad leaving Mark like that, but he would most likely sleep most of the day, and if he needed medical attention, my dad was on call to take him in to the hospital. I felt guilty pushing forward with my plans, but I know that I have to take care of myself if I am to care effectively for the extra needs of my family. So I went.

It was rainy and windy at the beach, but it was still wonderful. The tide was all the way out, and I went out again to investigate the tidepools. At first my mind was busy, busy, busy -- as usual. But I remember what a couple of writer friends have told me recently -- that one's writing can't be rushed, that downtime feeds the muse. So I just let my thoughts roam while I wandered around. I climbed and walked and peered into pools and took pictures and touched things. (Why do I feel a need to touch things? In some ways, I'm just like a kid!) I squatted down and stared at the face of a rock for the longest time. The longer I looked, the more life I saw on that rock. It was really incredible.

But if somebody knows, would you please hit "comment" and answer a question for me? This has me totally intrigued. Do barnacles made noise? I never thought they did, but then I've never seen a whole mess of them alive, waving their itty bitty antenae thingies, either. They sounded like very quiet chicks. Seriously! They did! But I wonder if what I heard was the water draining out between the shells. I don't know. Does anybody know?

Anyway, on to other things ... It was so refreshing down there that I got to daydreaming. Someday I'm going to have a house down by the Oregon coast. I'm going to live there, full time, year round, and every day I will go down on the beach and walk with my muse. And I'll have a spare room with its own bathroom and a hot plate and an outside entry for privacy. It'll have bookshelves lined with great books and paper and pens left in "random" places. There will be some quilts, like my grandma's quilt, and a basket of teas, and quiet. Lots of quiet. Pastors can send people my way who are worn out from life, and they can stay in my spare room. I won't bother them. They can just come and be refreshed so that they can go back to the fray. Wouldn't that be grand? I would love that.

And my grandkids will come, too, and I'll have a huge wooden swing hanging in the gnarly oak behind the house. (Do oaks grow by the coast? I don't think I've ever paid attention to that detail. Ah, well. This is just a daydream. Back to it ...) After we're done swinging, we'll have a picnic on the back porch. Bologna sandwiches and Fritos and 7Up (because that's what my grandmother used to feed me). Then we'll go down to the beach, barefoot, and build huge sand cities. And then we'll come back and throw open the windows and take naps, serenaded by the sound of the surf ... Someday.

In the afternoon, the rain picked up, and I spent some time trolling for treasures in the shops. Didn't buy anything except Mark's birthday present and the best bowl of split pea soup I've ever eaten. I sat in the car and read Zoetrope for awhile, too. Now, that is an exceptional journal. Someday I'm going to be published there. You'll see! Okay, I'll grant that it may take me 30 years, but I'll get there. Today, refreshed as I am, anything seems possible.

When I got home, I saw in Becca's face the exact reason that I need these days out so badly. She was thrashed! I asked her if she was sick. She said no, only exhausted. Yeah, well, my boys can be a bit ... um, draining? I love them dearly, but ... well, let's just leave it at that. I love them dearly. That said, these days away are absolutely priceless!