Holly D. Mattson

coppertone As I was putting on my SPF 15 tinted moisturizer the other day, I was reminded of that song from a decade or so ago. You know the one I'm talking about, right? It was on the radio nonstop. The sunscreen song.

Anyway--it got me thinking: what would I include in my manifesto? Here's what I came up with . . .

Read product labels--but don't obsess.
Give yourself time-outs, as well as a bedtime.
Say thank you.
Use people's names when addressing them.
Make eye contact.
Banish multitasking from your to-do list.
Make a gratitude list--particularly when you're feeling blue.
Don't be afraid to get in the game.
Be comfortable enough to sit back and watch.
Watch a tree on its metamorphosis through the seasons.
Write a personalized note in every greeting card you send.
Buy a refillable pen and refill it when the ink runs out.
Reduce, reuse, recycle. Always.
Visit the library.
Proofread your own work.
Know where your food comes from.
Smile at babies.
Eat mindfully.
Make time for an afternoon cup of tea.
Master a few great recipes.
Keep your e-mail inbox clean.
Make soup from scratch.
Set the alarm clock for the real time you want to get up. Say no to the snooze button.
Do yoga because it feels good--not because everybody else is doing it.
Shoes stay downstairs.
Savor every last bit.
Smile more often.
Take the time before bed to simplify your morning routine.
Don't waste time envying others.
Declutter.
Take more photographs.
Listen to the lyrics.
Shop the perimeter of the grocery store.
Make a shopping list and stick to it.
Wear heirloom jewelry.
Burn that candle and use that soap you've been hanging on to.
Stop second-guessing--but never stop questioning.
Eat a rainbow of colors.
Build your own food pyramid.
Be nice to yourself.
Try not to eat foods your great-grandma wouldn't recognize.
Say a silent farewell to the roadkill squirrels.
Be informed.
Don't get sucked into the sensationalism of the news.
Don't forward e-mail chain letters promising good luck if you pass this along to 10 friends in the next 6 minutes.
Google yourself every now and then.
Face your finances.
Set up a bird feeder outside a window.
Cook with fresh herbs.
Send a card just because.
Make your own hot chocolate mix.
Listen closely to your grandparents' stories.
Be confident enough to go it alone.
Be open to companionship.
Take deep breaths.
Avoid artificial sweeteners, colors, and flavors.
Hug someone every day. Pets count.
Watch the sun set.
Experience more sunrises.
Reconnect.
Give yourself a break.
Write neatly.
Shred your own cheese.
Consider the packaging when making a purchase.
Be open to a wide genre of music, books, and films. You never know . . .
Take a staycation.
And yes--always wear sunscreen.

400happiness2 I used to have this pink tee shirt when I was a kid that had a big, glittery iron-on patch emblazoned on it. In between an up arrow and a down arrow were the words "Everything's going up but my allowance."

I hated that shirt, mostly because I didn't get an allowance. Now, to be fair, I didn't do anything around the house to warrant an allowance. But still, the grown-ups all thought the tee shirt was hilarious and adorable. I just felt like an impostor and did everything I could to avoid wearing that ridiculous shirt. All it did was remind me what I did not have, which made me feel different. And when you're nine years old, different is not good.

I spent many years of my life thinking that more was better. More toys. More clothes. More friends. More books. More rooms. More vacations. More money. In a literal sense, I was pretty well off. But figuratively speaking I felt poor. Even when I had plenty, it didn't feel like enough.

Enough for whom?

A few years (and a few thousand down dogs) ago, it finally started to make sense: stuff does not equal happiness. Simple but true. It's hard to keep sight of that when everyone I know seems to have jetted off somewhere tropical this winter, or is dressed in a new pair of designer jeans, or heading out for dinner and drinks. Stuff does Not. Equal. Happiness.

It's why I could have a cashmere sweater in every color that J.Crew offers, or a love-it size scoop of Cold Stone Creamery's Founder's Favorite ice cream (in a waffle bowl) every day of the week and still want for something more. Less is more. The less I want and the less I try to "keep up," the more fulfilled I feel. Simple as that. And if I can find someone who will appreciate my unneeded things--stuffed bunny rabbits, a freshwater pearl necklace, a box full of holiday decorations, and so on--well, that's what good karma housekeeping is all about.

I watched Michael J. Fox speak on Oprah today about what it's like living with a degenerative disease. Something he said stood out to me so much that I hit pause and rewind a few times just so I could scribble it all down:

Happiness grows in direct proportion to your acceptance and in inverse proportion to your expectations. . . . This is what I have today. I don't have a choice about this, but I have a million other choices. And if I choose well, I am going to be a happy person.

If the only real way to find happiness is to accept the reality that is today and fill it with the best option for whatever choices are in your control, well that's what living rich is all about.