The other day, I asked Cuddle Bear, my 2-year-old, what
makes her happy. She responded by
singing, ‘If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands’, at which point she
poked my nose and went ‘honk honk’.
I then asked Baby Bear, our 6-year-old, without hesitation
and with only the slightest possibility that he may have blackmailed, he
sweetly responded, ‘you, Daddy’. He then
added, playing with Lego, Willow’s puppies, playing with his little sister and
playing with his friends.
Finally, I brought the subject up with my 13-year-old, Poppy
Bear. I was told that I was strange and
to leave her alone as she wasn’t in the mood.
Than I pondered, what makes me happy? Well, my kids, they fill me with joy. Impractical jokers make me chuckle. Writing makes me feel in tune with
myself. When I’m not at home, but away
with my wife and kids and we don’t have the stresses of work, school, bills,
family etc I feel most peaceful and connected.
But then I struggle, what else is there? Surely there must be something that makes me
roar with happiness, holding onto my sides in fear of them splitting? And hang on a moment, hasn’t there been times
when I’ve enviously spied another and wished I could be happy like them,
without actually knowing what they were happy about, or even if in fact they
were happy and not just escaped from a nearby asylum.
So then if I feel the need to be happier, do I actually know
what makes me happy? You scan friends’
profiles of FB or Instagram and see all the things they do that seem too make
them happy, but nothing really connects too you. It’s great that you love to hurl yourself off
bridges attached by nothing but knicker elastic, but that’s not for me! Playing online computer games makes you
ecstatic, but I gotta pass! That you
spend every Saturday running, swimming and cycling through mud, rain and snow
is really admirable, but, you know what, I can’t find my cycling shorts! The amount of time you’re put into restoring
that classic car and making it gleam so bright it dazzles passing pilots is
inspiring, but I’ve just put on the kettle!
I have a vague idea of what makes me happy, I like to cook,
I like to eat, I like to read, I like to write etc. And day to day, I’m pretty happy, some days
better than others, paydays, weekends, birthday, holidays seem to be the
best. But I’ve never put much thought
into where my happiness comes from, or what it is about cooking for example,
that makes me happier than when I’m not cooking! And as I suspect, from the examples set by my
friends, their happiness is linked to a realisation of their values. So, if you’re unsure of your values, then hey
happiness will be difficult to come by.
Feed the value, find the happiness.
Feed me Seymour!
Now, I’m feeling selfish. As a child, happiness was a selfish concept,
I was taught do put the needs and wants of others before my own, my turn would
come later I was promised. To expect
otherwise was self-indulgent. Now maybe
you could argue that it’s admirable, respectful or even noble to be so
considerate, but taken to the extreme it prohibits any proper development of
your own self-worth.
As with values, I was fed a prescribed
formula that would lead me too happiness.
Get a good job that pays well, work out and eat, not healthily but
restrictively, have a big house and a nice car, have friends, get married and
have children. And take them all with a
spoon full of sugar.
And that was going to be my life.
I
got a good job that pays well, and I hate it.
I don’t really work out, but I do eat 😊 I have a house, and have found for me that the size of it,
(the house), doesn’t seem to affect my happiness-o’meter. And I have a car that seems to work more on
faith than on principles of the internal combustion engine. I struggle with friends, I’m not that good at
keeping them, I forget to water them, and they wither and die! I am married and have 3 kids, and don’t panic
Mummy Bear, they make me so very happy.
This guaranteed path to happiness for the
most part, led to the opposite in most cases.
These beliefs that had been bottle fed too me since birth, that had
grown and intertwined with my value system has betrayed me! These notions may well work for some people,
and some of the notions may work for all people, for myself being married and
having my little ones is the most important, happiness and proudest choices of
my life. But trying to judge your
happiness based on the preconceived ideals of family, friends, and society is
resounded and absolutely doomed too lead to unhappiness. So, lets consign this now too Dusty Bin, and
let’s be H.A.P.P.Y about it!
In the beginning there was God, God was
bored and sat alone in the dark, so God turned on the lights. God did a lot of useful stuff, God made the
sky, the sea and the land, God even made animals, including bed bugs, even the
best of us have bad ideas. God looked
around his creation and thought he’d made some really fun stuff here. God was jolly proud as so God should be, but
something was missing, so God create Man.
Man looked at God, God looked at Man,
‘well? What am I meant to do?’ asked Man.
‘Go
and be happy’, boomed the reply from God.
‘Happy?’ spoke Man, ‘What’s that look like
then?’
‘Oh Lordy!’ thought God, feeling a slight
niggle of regret, ‘Tell you what, if you’re doing something and it feels nice’,
Man giggled, interrupting God. ‘If it
feels nice’, God continued, ‘remember it, and do it again!’.
‘That’s it?’ questioned Man, ‘sounds easy
enough’.
‘That’s it’, confirmed God, ‘make a list and
soon you’ll find happiness!’
As God commanded Man went off and made a
list, the sun on his face, wet grass beneath bare feet, live music on warm
evenings, his children laughing, his wife’s hand running through his hair, TV
or films about Zombies, trying and cooking new food, being silly. Mans list grew and grew, and each addition
brought further joy to his life.
Until, one day Man met another Man.
This Man said, ‘You are a Man, put away
childish things!’
The first Man felt ashamed and burnt his
list of happy times, and Man was sad.
So, lets make a list again, of all those
things that make me smile, of all my favorite things, of raindrops on roses and
whiskers on kittens. And maybe let’s try
to understand why they make me happy! So
something that I enjoy is writing….but why?
Do I love to write because?
a/ It allows me to feel creative without
judgement
b/ it allows me to truly feel I can be
myself
c/ it allows me to have me time
d/ I get a sense of accomplishment from it
e/ it gives me a sense of independence and
control
I could go on, but all these reason feed
into my values, which again reinforces that to be happy you need to be true to
who you are, and if you don’t know that, you’re going to struggle! Also, I must assume that if I could find
something else that met these values, that who also make me happy. Things are starting to look up folks. It’s not necessarily what I do, but that it
satisfies my values that’s important.
We should celebrate what makes us happy,
remember constantly and recognize those moments that lighten life. Cherish these moments and they will always
reward you. Keep a list, keep photos,
keep-sakes or mementos, make a play list, print a coffee mug, whatever works,
keep it with us always and in those moments when we’re feeling blue, we can
revisit these moments and proclaim, ‘this makes me happy’. I have photos on my phone that I look at to
make me smile, to remind myself that in my happiness lies my life, they are
mostly of my children, but I have a few that would confuse. I have a keep-sake in my wallet that does
that same.
As a Man, I lost touch with who I was, I
lost the child I once was. I was told
often that the things I loved as a child where silly and as an adult I needed
to be grown up! Grown-ups must be
serious, a testimony to Misters Darling or Banks at the beginning of the
adventures. Peter Pan or Mary Poppins
could have adventures, but in real life, such fantasies were foolish. Day dreams were discouraged, and dreams were
Freudian.
In my last Hurrah, I shout, I yell, I
proclaim from the stars as I grasp the hand of the boy that never grows up,
lets remember the things we loved as children.
I bet if we tried them again today, we would still love them. It doesn’t matter if we don’t look cool, it
doesn’t matter what our friends may think, it matters that it makes us happy.
Do magic, dress up, roll up hills, play
pooh sticks, jump on furniture (maybe when the wife isn’t watching), have a water
fight, have a pillow fight, sing at the top of your voice, paint pictures. Be a child.
