My Happiness Commandments

February 28, 2012 Holly Sivec

I'm a champion list-maker. I find the process of writing something down, doing it, and checking it off so incredibly satisfying. What I don't enjoy, however, is that for every item I complete, three more seem to take its place. And there are only so many hours in a day. And I'm just one person. And . . . and . . . well, all that doing gets exhausting.

Ironically, for a good two-plus years, my someday-maybe list has included "draft my own happiness commandments, a la Gretchen Rubin." (It's amazing how many fun, meaningful things on the someday-maybe list get brushed aside in favor of practical, boring things--like laundry and taxes--isn't it?)

Fast forward to today: I finally made the time to create my happiness commandments list. What I love most about this exercise is that there isn't a single task in sight. Everything on the happiness commandments list is meant to stay on this list. To-bes, not to-dos. And while I do love drawing a line through all those completed tasks, I'm quite alright with letting these 12 items stand.

So, without further ado . . . my list.

Everything counts.
You don't have to. You get to.
Invest in love--and invest in life. (And vice versa.)
Quality not quantity.
Great--not just good.
Avoid crinkly things.
Just do it.
No apologies, no regrets.
Rest your head.
Everything is a miracle.
Flap your wings.
Foresake comparison.

Like Lucy, there's some 'splainin to do on each of these. But for now, I can say that I've written my happinesss commandments--and cross that off of my to-do list.

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On New Year's Resolutions and the Soul of 9

January 2, 2010 Holly Sivec

lotus blossom I've always loved the new year and its promise of a fresh start. Ironically though, I've been making the same resolutions for the better of 20 years now. Eat more vegetables. Watch less TV and read more books. Get more exercise and more sleep. Write more and submit my work for publication.

I'd outline grand and precise plans in these areas, all designed to help me succeed. And then, when I'd get the slightest bit off track, I'd cast that goal aside and move on to something I could accomplish. Like watching every episode of House Hunters and What Not to Wear or walking to get a vanilla soft-serve cone with rainbow sprinkles on top for dinner.

I'm not lazy--nor am I a slacker. But I've always had trouble sticking with things. Even things that I enjoy. Turns out, it's my Soul of 9 that's holding me back.

Let me back up a bit: A few weeks ago, my kundalini yoga teacher was talking about the 10 bodies--a way of understanding and restoring balance in your life. Tantric numerology offers a window into our own bodies. Ever the curious one, I went online, entered my birthdate, and out popped my tantric reading.

My soul number--which identifies what's at the core of my consciousness--is a 9. It says that I'm very hard on myself (yep) and that I have a tendency to give up on things after a short period of time rather than sticking with them and mastering them (yep). It goes on to explain that, "without mastery, life is a mystery" to me and that "my joy in life will come from mastering things." On the one hand, I feel like this is just generic enough to apply to most all of us; but I have enough experiential evidence to know that my internal critic is snarkier than most.

So, how can I overcome this? The numerology report recommended a 1,000-day meditation. Just seeing the words "1,000 day" made me want to reach for the remote and flip on HGTV. But the perfectionist in me isn't willing to give up quite that easily this time.

After years and years of resolving to do all of these lofty and ambitious things and only making marginal success, I've decided to change my approach. In the spirit of Christine Kane's Resolution Revolution, my goal for 2010 is simply to finish.

Finish. That's it. Just one word. The goal being to infuse anything and everything that I aspire to with this intention. Those unread and partly read books on my shelves? Finish. My to-be-written essay ideas? Finish. My desire to eat vegan for two meals each day? Finish. My plans to run a 5k? Finish. You get the picture.

With just one word to aspire to, there's no room for drama, backstory, or excuses. Just do it.

"Don't fear the long road." --Michael Franti, Never Too Late

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less is more--especially when it comes to setting a clear New Year's resolution. (Photo by Flowery L*u*z*a* via Creative Commons.)

All the Details

December 10, 2009 Holly Sivec

snowflakes It has been a week of simple pleasures--the type of things that, all too often, I take for granted. Such as . . .

Marveling at the clean blanket(s) of snow
Accompanying Inky on his Caring Canines visit
Buying holiday presents for a child whom I've never meet
Enjoying the glow of my beautiful Christmas tree
Cozying up on the couch with a loved one (pups nearby)
Making breakfast for dinner (accompanied by a glass of malbec)
Devouring my homemade calzone (even better the next day)
Rearranging my end tables
Adding 2010 plans to my cute new agenda book
Accomplishing a big professional goal at work
Fortifying myself with fresh-squeezed orange juice
Savoring a bowl of tomato soup with parmesan croutons on a cold winter's night
Receiving my first holiday card of the season
Discovering a new (to me) musical group: the Vitamin String Quartet
Making yoga + brunch plans with a good friend
Attending my first kundalini yoga class with the gong
Staying healthy (knock on wood and take my vitamins)
Laughing together (oh, hello ab muscles)

How about you? What are some of the little pleasures that you've been taking for granted?

"The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life." --William Morris

Walking in the Air

November 24, 2009 Holly Sivec

snowman Noah Biorkman is a 5-year-old boy from Michigan who was diagnosed with Stage IV neuroblastoma more than two years ago. He passed away on Monday.

When it became clear to Noah's mother Diana that her son would probably not be here to celebrate his favorite holiday on December 25, the family moved up its festivities to November 8. As part of that celebration, Noah's mother posted a request online for folks to send Christmas cards to her little boy. The request quickly circulated the Internet; caught the attention of local, national, and international media; and tugged at the heartstrings of many. So much so that Noah received more than one million Christmas cards at his home. One of which was from me.

I sent Noah my last Raymond Briggs' Snowman card, which I've been hanging on to for years. For anyone who's not familiar with the story, it's about a young boy who builds a snowman in his front yard and, in the late-night hours, it comes to life. The boy introduces the snowman to his world--shiny ornaments on the tree, the fruit bowl in the kitchen, roller skates, and dress-up clothes--and the snowman introduces the boy to his world which includes a magical, soaring flight over the forest, ocean, and Northern Lights--all the way to the North Pole. It's a dream-come-true sort of event that comes to an end all too soon for the boy. All that's left is a fond memory and a tangible reminder that our time together is not infinite.

It's a beautiful story--perhaps the most somber children's Christmas story I've encountered--but when I read about Noah's mother's plea and her plans to give her son the celebration of a lifetime, I knew that remaining Snowman Christmas card was meant for this very real little boy.

Watch The Snowman--complete with the 1982 David Bowie intro (26:07)

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. Because what fun is life if you can't dream about fairytale endings?

I'm Gathering the Colors

September 7, 2009 Holly Sivec

accordian 2 My summer has been quiet but rich in simple pleasures. Soft-serve cones with rainbow sprinkles, outdoor yoga sessions, mini golf, sunrise walks and sunset runs, dramatic skies, leisurely seafood feasts, afternoons reading on the patio, quality time on park benches, fresh raspberries in my lemonade, sunbeam naps with my old cat, lush flowers beckoning me to stop and sniff. The list is long, but I've downloaded each and every sensation of the season.

"Gathering the colors," one of my yoga instructors called it, referring to the children's storybook, Frederick. The book is about a little field mouse who knows how valuable it is to have a harvest of vibrant, enjoyable memories to draw from that can help you get through more challenging times that inevitably lie ahead.

So, from here on out--and until further notice--I'm committed to focusing on everything that's bright and living and lush in experience. Such as:

Brushing my hand across the lavender leaves
Tuning in to the steady hum of insect chirps
Sucking down wedges of watermelon before the juices drip down my wrist
Watching the blue jays, cardinals, finches, and doves mingle and dine at our bird feeder
Enjoying the sunshine on my shoulders and the warm whisk of wind by my ears
Stopping to take in the talents of a street musician
Savoring local and in-season produce
Walking barefoot across the grass
Breathing deep

"Supplies," Frederick calls them. Even more essential than a scarf and gloves for this New England girl, I say.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. (Photo taken in the Boston Public Garden during my summer staycation)

Capture Memories, One Sentence at a Time

August 13, 2009 Holly Sivec

I have a thing for remembering dates and events, big or small. Some people take oodles of photos, piece together artsy scrapbooks, or maintain detailed journals. I, however, store most of my memories on a little mental calendar in the deep recesses of my brain.

I like it that way. Memories are my absolute favorite souveniers. But I'm getting older and I can admit that my once-photographic memory occasionally goes on the fritz. So, I'm thinking it's time to do something about it. Enter Gretchen Rubin's Happiness Project and her ideas for keeping a non-journal. Or, as I prefer to call it, a memory calendar.

The concept is about as low-pressure and easy to maintain as they get. Not to mention, it takes up practically no space. Simply:

Buy a datebook with the month and day (no year) printed at the top of each page. (Or create your own using a nice notebook. Just make sure it has enough pages!)
Write a one-sentence entry for each day that has an event or memory that you'd like to hold on to over the years.
Keep adding to it until the book is full.
Repeat.

Just one sentence. That's all it takes to serve as a rich memory jogger. A few words that can transport you back on a multisensory journey to that table for two on your first date ten years ago. From his adorable smile to his expressive eyes to his chatty personality. All as vivid as if it took place yesterday. All still true today.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. Even more happily ever after than Shrek and Fiona. (Image courtesy of Y0si via Creative Commons.)

A Permanent Vacation

July 6, 2009 Holly Sivec

A glass of dessert wine out on the patio at dusk Today is the first official day of my staycation, and I'm wrapping up the day with a glass of muscat that has been sitting in my wine rack for far too long. After all, I'm on vacation--so why not celebrate a little, right? It has been a long, leisurely day, complete with a yoga class, stroll through Boston's Public Garden, an iced Americano, a visit to a local day spa, lunch & dinner on my patio, and now a glass of dessert wine. [Edit: Add in a cup of vanilla soft serve with rainbow sprinkles.]

All that leisurely goodness has got me thinking: What if every day could be a vacation day? Would it lose its specialness? Shouldn't every day be special? Instead, we (read: I) seemingly trudge through our days. It's almost Friday. It's almost 5 o'clock. Blech. Enough.

So, what is it that I love most about vacations?

The anticipation of all that lies ahead
New sights, sounds, and experiences
Good food
Good company
Traveling lightly (i.e., having occasions to wear all of my shoes)

While I may not be able to hang out in Sonoma, attend yoga camp, or dine at Henrietta's Table every day, I can certainly cultivate that same feeling of pure enjoyment, of having everything I want--and everything I need. While my everyday life may not be packed with as many leisurely activities as today, with a little extra awareness and a shift in perspective, even the seemngly mundane can be fabulous.

A former yoga teacher of mine lives by a similar philosophy where every day and every thing is The Best. The best sunset ever. The best strawberry ever. The best roll of paper towels ever. Truthfully, we all know that not everything can be that rosy all the time, but just putting your mind in glass-completely-full perspective is 90% of the battle. Absorbtion comes with time--and practice.

Wouldn't you like to go on a permanent vacation?

You can! You know that fancy bar of soap in your linen closet? Unwrap it, set it out next to the sink in a pretty little dish, and enjoy its triple-milled bubbles and French lavender aroma. Burn that decorative candle. Wear that fancy perfume or pair of earings. Take lots of photos. Sit on a park bench and soak in the sights. Savor dessert. Uncork that old bottle of dessert wine.

What are you waiting for?

Plenty Is a Mindset

June 30, 2009 Holly Sivec

into the wild - alone We live in a culture of wants. It's no secret. Everywhere you look, you see covetable stuff. Shiny stuff. Pretty stuff. Fancy stuff. Cool stuff. I admit, I like stuff; however, I am also overwhelmed by it all.

The first thing I vividly remember wanting--with every pleading fiber of my nine-year-old self--was a pair of Nike sneakers. Ones with a lavender swoosh, like Amy Gardner's. I also wanted a baseball tee shirt with a silk-screened unicorn on the front and my name in fuzzy letters on the back. And a Cabbage Patch Kid (and another Cabbage Patch Kid). And let's not forget the Hello Kitty erasers and scratch-and-sniff stickers. I got all of those things, and pretty much everything else I've wanted for over the years.

Whoop de doo.

Want is an insatiably hungry beast. It took me a good, long time to realize all that stuff just gets in the way of truly living. My happiness has little to do with designer handbags or $200 jeans or a yoga wardrobe full of Lululemon gear. I am more than the sum of my possessions--and you are, too.

Last weekend I watched Into the Wild, and the message has been haunting me ever since: stuff does not equal happiness. As circumstance would have it, I've been a student of this philosophy for the last six months. While I would give anything not to be in this situation, it is perhaps the most valuable lesson I've ever learned, distinguishing want vs. need.

"Until you have it all you won't be free." -- "Society" by Eddie Vedder

In order to experience that sense of freedom, you have to come to terms with the fact that you already have everything you need. Trust. Dig deep. Look in the way back of your closet. I promise, whatever you're looking for is there--as long as you're willing to be creative.

Can you cultivate your own definition of happiness--of "having it all"--with only the resources at your fingertips? Life is short. Time is passing. You can't afford to wait.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Acceptance

June 3, 2009 Holly Sivec

LITTOF My friend Jami recently brought my attention to this blog: Love in the Time of Foreclosure. It's the open-book documentation of a husband and wife out in California who are staring into the eyes of foreclosure and figuring out how to get by on so, so, so much less than before. Heartbreaking, huh? But here's the kicker: they're happier than ever before.

Like one of my favorite (mostly nonfiction) books from the 1990s, Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, the author of LITTOF is moving ahead and only looking forward. There's not a lot for any of us to gain by playing the What If game, is there?

So, how in the the face of such adversity do you find happily ever after? Well, for starters, you change the way you define your own happiness. ASAP. A few months back, I scribbled down this quote from an interview with Michael J. Fox, who said:

"Happiness grows in direct proportion to your acceptance and 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'm going to be a happy person."

Fox recently authored a book of his own, Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist, which is all about his way of viewing challenges as opportunities. Look up or lose out, I say. Give up fighting, but don't give up on the fight.

Accept. Surrender. Make lemonade. Whatever you want to call it. Just don't call it a loss. Maybe its just the beleaguered breadwinner in me talking, but adversity is one heck of an influential teacher, don't you think. (Though, for the record, I think I'm ready to graduate . . .)

Related posts: Plenty Is a Mindset The Haves and the Have Nots

My Happy Birthday Mantra

May 18, 2009 Holly Sivec

My happy birthday mantra, scribbled onto my tea cup so I wouldn't forget it. Today is my birthday--my 35th birthday. And while I so easily could have fallen into the this is the year I'll lose those 10 pounds, or drink my greens, or query the editor of this or that magazine, or dabble with retinols game of cat-and-mouse that I like to play with myself, I decided not to go that route. At least not decidedly so. I kept it simple. Instead, I took the day off from work and hit up a morning yoga class at Exhale with one of my new favorite teachers, Taryn Toomey. Breathing seemed like the right thing to aspire to.

And breathe we did.

In order to help us harness our focus this chilly and gray Monday morning, she had us incorporate a mantra into our flow--a sequence of phrases repeated over and over in our head, with each inhale and each exhale. A meditation in motion. The point being that, with repetition, our thoughts will become our reality and we can create our own positive state of happiness and well-being. A pretty good gift to myself, if I do say so.

Taryn started us out with her mantra, and then encouraged us to let it morph into whatever shape naturally occurred. Over the next 75 minutes, I fell in love with these words. So much so that I jotted them down on the only paper I had--my cup of tea--and brought it home with me.