I had minor surgery a couple of days ago and after a day of pretty much sleeping it off, I've been up to my ears in exploration--watching videos on YouTube and reading. Spiritual teacher Caroline Myss has said that when we find what we believe to be a spiritual truth, we should seek to find it elsewhere. She generally has in mind other religious traditions: Myss says key truths of most religions can be found in some manidestation in others, often several others.
My frame of reference for spirituality extends beyond religion, but with that said, I believe that when we find what we believe to be truth anywhere in the world, we will find it multiple places. As those who have been reading recently know, I've just finished my certification as a health coach, and this little post-surgery respite has given me the opportunity to start reading the stack of health-related books that have accumulated by my desk over several years. There's at least 80 per cent congruence (maybe more) between the content in all of them, and yet each brings a different nuance or something new.
What has continued to astound me has been the intersection between health and happiness. It doesn't surprise me at all that we are happier when we are healthier, but it seems to me that the things that we do to be healthier are the same things that we do to be happier. The causality may not be between health and happiness, but rather between a set of behaviors that cause us to be both healthier and happier.
My old friend "laughter" shows up a lot. Today I've been reading Blue Zones--9 Lessons for Living Longer from the people who've lived the longest, by Dan Buettner. The book is based on research he did for National Geographic on regions of the world where a disproportionate percentage of the population lives past 100. There's even a subset of the "blue zones": semi-supercentenarians--referring to regions with a disproportionate percentage of the population over 110. As he did his research, Buettner and his team traveled to often-remote regions to interview those over 100. I was struck by how often the centenarians burst out in laughter.
Laughter is a characteristic of both health and happiness. A couple of years ago when completing my certification to be a laughter yoga teacher, we were given a full page of benefits of laughter, most of them were health enhancements. For instance, one minute of laughter has the aerobic impact of 10 minutes on a rowing machine.
Dr. Martin Seligman, father of positive psychology/psychology of happiness, has said that lack of laughter is a challenge to the happiness of those who live alone because they don't laugh enough.
Spiritually, laughter is often observed in those who are truly "light." If you've ever watched a video or interview of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, you know that he often bursts out in contagious belly laughter.
It has been said that the road to Hell is paved by good intentions. When I set out to live my life with intention and to share my journey with others, it was specifically so that my life's intentions would not be squandered. My intentions are to have a life of health, happiness, and wholeness that will grow me spiritually.
Yet, despite knowing the benefits of laughter to health, happiness, and my spirit and my pathetic moaning and groaning about lack of laughter in my life, at least 18 months after completing my Laughter Yoga certification, I have yet to teach a single class. As I've been leaning into my transition, teaching Laughter Yoga (LY) must be part of my health coaching practice. Laughter is clearly a component of both health and happiness; it would seem it would be neglectful of me to omit it. I've just drug out my LY textbook, and I am throwing it into this soup I am making called "My Life as a Health Coach."
Showing posts with label psychology of happiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychology of happiness. Show all posts
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Monday, August 17, 2015
Lazy Summer Day
Saturday I had a wonderful lazy afternoon with a dear friend. We lunched ever so slowly on my balcony, enjoying a little prosecco as we looked at some art photos she had developed and talked of both past and anticipated travel adventures. We luxuriated on a comfortably warm, late summer afternoon. We also spoke of challenges and deeper things.
Tonight I shared a bi-weekly call with another friend. For the first bit I was walking as we talked, and then I found a shady park bench and just enjoyed the conversation. We chatted of triumphs, challenges, and, aware of the coming Jewish New Year, of hopes for the year ahead.
One of the Seven Habits of Happiness in the class I just completed is "Relationships." The first habit we explored in the class, it is the one in which I feel the greatest void. I've truly pondered how I can fix that situation, but I can't resurrect family members that are no longer with us. When I've moved, although friends have said they would come and visit, each time only one has actually done that--one time. One of the prices I've paid for needing to start over again later in life by moving to a new city is that at a certain stage in life my contemporaries are solidly in long-term relationships. I have a few friends who are there occasionally, but the truth is that they are infrequent relationships.
These were the first times since my class that I spent time with friends. With each, I really savored our time together. While I often rush from one event in my life to another without really enjoying any of it, in these times I was present, totally in the moment, mindful, and grateful--all habits of happiness.
As a definite introvert, I more often than not go through life happily alone, but my class and time on Saturday heightened my awareness of how relationships enrich my life, so instead of slipping into church, participating in worship, and quietly slipping out the side door as I usually do, yesterday I made a point to introduce myself to a couple I hadn't seen or talked to before. Today, I went out of my way to talk with someone in my office that I usually just greet in passing.
I believe that my happiness boils down to holding myself accountable. Taking a class won't do it unless I act on what I have learned, and this week I've really learned how important relationships are. I am holding myself accountable for creating more of them.
Tonight I shared a bi-weekly call with another friend. For the first bit I was walking as we talked, and then I found a shady park bench and just enjoyed the conversation. We chatted of triumphs, challenges, and, aware of the coming Jewish New Year, of hopes for the year ahead.
One of the Seven Habits of Happiness in the class I just completed is "Relationships." The first habit we explored in the class, it is the one in which I feel the greatest void. I've truly pondered how I can fix that situation, but I can't resurrect family members that are no longer with us. When I've moved, although friends have said they would come and visit, each time only one has actually done that--one time. One of the prices I've paid for needing to start over again later in life by moving to a new city is that at a certain stage in life my contemporaries are solidly in long-term relationships. I have a few friends who are there occasionally, but the truth is that they are infrequent relationships.
These were the first times since my class that I spent time with friends. With each, I really savored our time together. While I often rush from one event in my life to another without really enjoying any of it, in these times I was present, totally in the moment, mindful, and grateful--all habits of happiness.
As a definite introvert, I more often than not go through life happily alone, but my class and time on Saturday heightened my awareness of how relationships enrich my life, so instead of slipping into church, participating in worship, and quietly slipping out the side door as I usually do, yesterday I made a point to introduce myself to a couple I hadn't seen or talked to before. Today, I went out of my way to talk with someone in my office that I usually just greet in passing.
I believe that my happiness boils down to holding myself accountable. Taking a class won't do it unless I act on what I have learned, and this week I've really learned how important relationships are. I am holding myself accountable for creating more of them.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
The First Day of Class
As a youngster, I always looked forward to the start of school, and my first encounter with insomnia came the night before the first day of school. I'd be so excited that I couldn't possibly go to sleep. Not much has changed for me. Today was the first day of my Psychology of Happiness class. While I did sleep last night, I was just as excited. My passion for learning sparked yet again. Up earlier than usual this morning, I completed my chores had been completed 90 minutes before the start of class. I was eager and waiting.
There are so many ways that I am grateful for this class, and I'm particularly happy that I delayed my March start of this class until this group. As we did our class introductions, almost ever one of us spoke of "resilience" as the trait that we are most proud of, and all of us shared that we'd had to overcome major, multiple, and even recurring challenges in life. About two-thirds of the way through introductions, one of my new classmates said we must all be related--from the same family. We are certainly kindred spirits, who seemed to bond almost immediately.
Like many first classes, this one started with a high-level overview, and we will drill down into each topic as the course proceeds. For this class, the overview revealed "Seven Habits of Happiness":
There are so many ways that I am grateful for this class, and I'm particularly happy that I delayed my March start of this class until this group. As we did our class introductions, almost ever one of us spoke of "resilience" as the trait that we are most proud of, and all of us shared that we'd had to overcome major, multiple, and even recurring challenges in life. About two-thirds of the way through introductions, one of my new classmates said we must all be related--from the same family. We are certainly kindred spirits, who seemed to bond almost immediately.
Like many first classes, this one started with a high-level overview, and we will drill down into each topic as the course proceeds. For this class, the overview revealed "Seven Habits of Happiness":
- Quality relationships
- Caring & acts of kindness
- Physical health
- Flow
- Character strengths & virtues
- Spiritual engagement
- Positive Mindset
Even though this was the survey class, I immediately recognized how these seven topics and the characteristics within each splendidly tied together many aspects of life with which I've struggled. We were asked to pick one of these to focus on for the duration of the class. Intuitively, I knew "physical health" was the one for me. As frequent readers will recall, I've struggled with allowing work to squeeze exercise out of my daily routine, and I've wrestled with my sugar addiction. My desire to be present significantly impacts several aspects of my health. Doing my physical therapy exercises daily greatly influences the level of pain with which I live.
As my day began to wind down, I reflected on this list of happiness habits, and I thought about how powerful my intention is when I really put my mind to something, most certainly the foundation of my resilience. I knew specific things that I want to do for each of the areas, except "Flow."
I know "flow" well: it is that state in which we are having so much joy with what we are doing that we lose track of time and consciousness. It requires a high skill level and equally high challenge. Flow requires that we really care about what we are doing. The possibility to "win" must be present.
The place in my life in which I am most predictably in "flow" is when I write. When writing Leading from the Heart, I would often find that it was getting dark outside on long summer days when I began to get tired, the first experience I'd had of being conscious since sitting down to write, maybe 8 to 10 hours earlier. I wouldn't eat, drink, or go to the bathroom, not due to deprivation, but because I was really out of my body and unable to experience the signs of bodily needs.
Similarly, I recall one day when writing The Game Called Life, a book that I finished in five days, I actually wrote 32 pages in one day. With my conscious logical mind, I have absolutely no concept how I did that, but I truly surrendered to my flow state.
I've experienced flow in other places in my life--when gardening, when dancing, occasionally when cooking, often when coaching, and sometimes when working on designs for my organization development (OD) work. Currently, I am encountering impediments to the flow state in most of these areas of my life. The northern exposure of my balcony garden makes "winning" almost impossible. (My neighbor warned me, but hope springs eternal.) I rarely have a dance partner any more who challenges me. My OD design work is often not challenging, and when it is, there are so many interruptions that getting to that place where I lose consciousness is impossible.
Lest you think this is a lot of grumbling and complaining, it is not. In my heart of hearts, I know that I can experience flow every single day just by choosing it. Every time I write this blog, I fall into a flow state. Yet, with increasing frequency, I have chosen to let the demands of longer and longer days on the job push writing out of my day. A week ago, I had a really good idea for a post and even wrote myself a note so I wouldn't lose the thought. By the time that I found energy to write Thursday evening, I sat staring at the note with no recollection at all of my earlier inspiration.
I have no illusions that taking this class will transform all of my bad habits, or that I will miraculously find the energy and will to write at the end of a 12-hour day. However, there is one thing about intention about which I have become very clear: it is like target practice. If I miss the bulls-eye, I aim again and give it another shot. Over time, I become more and more consistent at reaching my intention. There are aspects of my life that 30 years ago I would have been shocked to learn that I now do quite consistently. My hope is that looking back to 2015 in another 25 or 30 years, I will see that the things with which I struggle today have become happy habits in my life.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
Friendship
I am taking a course in the Psychology of Happiness, and as homework I've just spent several hours reading about and reflecting on "friendship." It seems that having one good friend with whom we can share confidences or inner feelings is essential to happiness. The value of friendship is in quality and not quantity, so if we have 20 friends but none with whom we can share our innermost thoughts, they are of less value than one with whom we can share. And, that one: will not only make us happier, but healthier as well.
While reading Aristotle on the nature of friendship is not exactly the light reading I might prefer for a Saturday afternoon, the ancient philosopher does raise a lot of questions about the true nature of friendship. Are we friends because of something we get from a person? Aristotle calls that "utility," and he professes that is not friendship but "profit." He also describes friendship of "duty," and friendship that is really love to gain love in return.
What has interested me most in his intellectual/philosophical meanderings is the description of a friendship of pure delight in each other's company, where we love without concern of being loved in return. Now, that's what I call friendship. In my experience such friendships are rare to be preciously tended.
Forty years ago, give or take, I walked into a room in an aging dormitory building to meet a new roommate. In less than 30 minutes time, I was certain we would be friends for life, and so far, I have been correct. We have gone long periods without seeing each other face to face, but usually talking at least once or twice a year. Always, we seem to pick up just where we left off.
It never occurred to me to be concerned that I would get anything from the relationship but pure delight. Each time we are together that is exactly what I feel--pure delight.
Last weekend she and I met for the weekend in New York City. We tromped all over Manhattan, taking on the mysteries of the New York subway system and seeing as many sites as we could take in during two days. I even walked 12 blocks once, just to end up almost from where I departed. Despite bitter cold and an unexpectedly early snowstorm, we embraced the city with gusto, talking for hours on end into the night. The years peeled away, and we were 20 again. Well, except for some gray hair and a few lines.
I still have lots of Aristotle to plow through, but so far I've read nothing to suggest that he really got that instant relationship that "clicks" for a lifetime. Having had such a friendship is a gift of my lifetime. What a blessing that such a miracle crossed through my life, and I had the wisdom and dexterity to grab it.
While reading Aristotle on the nature of friendship is not exactly the light reading I might prefer for a Saturday afternoon, the ancient philosopher does raise a lot of questions about the true nature of friendship. Are we friends because of something we get from a person? Aristotle calls that "utility," and he professes that is not friendship but "profit." He also describes friendship of "duty," and friendship that is really love to gain love in return.
What has interested me most in his intellectual/philosophical meanderings is the description of a friendship of pure delight in each other's company, where we love without concern of being loved in return. Now, that's what I call friendship. In my experience such friendships are rare to be preciously tended.
Forty years ago, give or take, I walked into a room in an aging dormitory building to meet a new roommate. In less than 30 minutes time, I was certain we would be friends for life, and so far, I have been correct. We have gone long periods without seeing each other face to face, but usually talking at least once or twice a year. Always, we seem to pick up just where we left off.
It never occurred to me to be concerned that I would get anything from the relationship but pure delight. Each time we are together that is exactly what I feel--pure delight.
Last weekend she and I met for the weekend in New York City. We tromped all over Manhattan, taking on the mysteries of the New York subway system and seeing as many sites as we could take in during two days. I even walked 12 blocks once, just to end up almost from where I departed. Despite bitter cold and an unexpectedly early snowstorm, we embraced the city with gusto, talking for hours on end into the night. The years peeled away, and we were 20 again. Well, except for some gray hair and a few lines.
I still have lots of Aristotle to plow through, but so far I've read nothing to suggest that he really got that instant relationship that "clicks" for a lifetime. Having had such a friendship is a gift of my lifetime. What a blessing that such a miracle crossed through my life, and I had the wisdom and dexterity to grab it.
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