Happy Taking A Break?

Well, the third not so great thing happened. You know how the bad things always pop up in your life in groups of three? My third bad thing was my computer dying, which is why I haven't posted for awhile. Only have library computer time, which now must be used for completing novel #2. It's a drag, but my posts will be irregular until a)I can afford another laptop, b)some kind soul lends me a laptop to use, or c) conmputers start raining down from the sky.

So, until next time I have more than a few moments to post, happy living!

Happy Doing Nothing

It's one of those days when nothing is working out right. E-mails I was expecting haven't showed, I can't get outlook express to recognize my server (or something - I'm not exactly a computer whiz, you know), hence can't send e-mails I need to send, As a matter of fact, it will be a miracle if this post gets published without more glitches. It's one of those days when nothing seems to be working very well. When that happens, I usually do a few things: 1) Like most New Englanders, I blame the weather (very humid today, and promising to be thundery later on, thus affecting all electrical equipment and pastry making). 2) Nothing. That's right. When nothing's working out, I try to do nothing. Or as little as possible. Maybe read and write a little. Get an iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts. Go to a movie. Because when nothing's working out, it's the universe telling us we should slow down. Wait till tomorrow. Maybe the stars are not aligned for our tasks. So we should just wait a little until they are.

So, this week, if you are lucky enough to have a day when nothing is working out, go with that. I know it sounds lazy and it wouldn't be condoned by the Puritans or the Founding Fathers, but believe me, it's okay to sometimes do nothing. Or not much. If you simply have to do something, write about or draw yourself doing nothing. Tomorrow you'll get twice as much accomplished than if you fought today.

Happy Saying "Oh, Well..."

Sometimes we can be beseiged by doubts and anxiety, and in those times, it's important to be able to say "Oh, well," and move on to the next thing. As in "Oh, well, so my 28 year old son wants to come home and live in the basement. It could be worse. I think I'll go plant some bulbs." Or, "Oh, well, I have to count up my change to buy dog food, but everything will work out. Let's go for a walk in the apple orchard!" Because 99 times out of 100, no matter how you worry and fret, things could be worse, and things will somehow work out. It just might take awhile.

So, this weekend, let's practice being zen. Make a list of all your stupid or serious worries. Then burn the paper the worries are written on (safely, or you'll have a bigger worry), all the while breathing deeply and saying "oh, well" on the exhale. Then, take a walk or bake something or putter around in your garden. Then write or draw your burning ritual, and your next move. It will be cathartic, I promise.

Happy Being Sad

All right. Sometimes it's impossible not to feel sad, because of circumstances that are overwhelming in one's life. Someone close dying. Lack of funds for important things. The troubles of friends. Illness. Sometimes we are just sad. It's inevitable. Notice I avoid the word 'depressed,' which I feel is bandied about all too much in our strange culture. Every other ad on TV, in magazines, etc, is directed to depressed people, and promises that a certain drug will fix it. Nobody is allowed to be sad anymore. It's as if the very word has dropped out of our vocabulary. Everyone says, "I'm depressed," whenever they wake up feeling less than perky. When really, they are just sad. Not that depression isn't real, but it's a clinical condition. I fail to see how 59% of the population can have the same clinical condition. If 59% of the people in the US woke up one day with, say, shingles, wouldn't it seem odd? Wouldn't we question how that happened? Shouldn't we be questioning the docs and the drug companies that subsidize them about how this happened, and is it true, anyway?

Excuse my rant. Jumped the track a little. In any case, it's OK to be sad. I give you permission. I'm sad right now because of various factors, but I know I won't be in the future. Things will get better. I'll be happy, at least a few hours a day. Half a day. For days at a stretch. This is just what happens, and I recognize it now. It's a function of aging, I think, realizing that things do eventually change for the better. And instead of moaning about how nothing's ever going to get better, as I used to do when I was younger, I try to focus on how things can be better. What improvements can I anticipate, and what might I do to push them along. Then I try to do some of those things.

So, if you feel sad, stuck, in a bad place, this week, envision how things can be better. Write/draw yourself happier. Write/draw the good things in your life so you don't forget things like, whoa, you're still breathing! Be grateful for the small things. I'll try, too.

Happy In The Deluge

Today I am officially crabby. The only possible walks to take the dogs on are 1) on a trail that's become a stream 2) through tall, non-mowed grass, walking through which is a little like being flayed with cat o'nine tails, and 3) mosquito and deerfly breeding grounds. We have had exactly 3 sunny days here in New England since May. Every day I wake up to clouds, or downright rain. I was flummoxed as to how to maintain a modicum of happiness, until I bethought myself of the solution: reading books set in the gloom of British summers. The Brits somehow manage to survive similar weather, while their wit downright flourishes.

So, this weekend, if you're looking like a wet week at Blackpool, get to your favorite bookstore or library, equip yourself with a good British novel, and hole up through the rain, thunder and lightning with it and a cup of tea. Some suggestions: The Sweetness At The Bottom Of The Pie, by Alan Bradley, Excellent Women or A Few Green Leaves,by Barbara Pym, anything Christie, ditto Dorothy Sayers. Although it's not a British book, The Shipping News by Annie Proulx has some great stormy, rainy weather, set in Newfoundland as it is. Stephen King's Bag of Bones also has a great, really long storm in it, too. Happy reading (and if you're inspired to write your own gloomy summer mystery, get to it)!

Happy With The Roller Coaster

Mark Twain moved more times than I have, and I'm up to approximately 19 times. He made and lost money at a phenomenal rate. Melville moved around a lot, too, and Hawthorne. Neither were rich, and were at times downright poverty-stricken. As a matter of fact, I can't think of one nineteenth-century American writer who didn't have a roller coaster life, including Edith Wharton, who started out quite wealthy. Even she lost her lovely house in the Berkshires. So, I don't feel so badly about my own ups and downs. I've been trying to think they in fact make for a richer life, and more material.

So, this week, let's meditate on the roller coaster of our lives. Where are you now?Are you at the top, a high point, looking down on the lovely landscape of your life? Or are you in the doldrums, at a low point? Now think of all the twists and turns your life has taken. Can you laugh now at a situation you thought was dire at the time? I bet you can. Can you think of the good times and relish them, remembering? Write it, draw it! Revel in the unique challenges and wonders of your life. And look to the future...as Mary Oliver exhorts us, "What will you do with your one wild and precious life?"

Happy Listening

I often use prompts in writing class involving the use of all our senses. We tend to be so wrapped up in what we see, hence what our characters see, that we forget about describing other sense impressions in our writing. It's the same in our lives. At least I remember mostly what I've seen with my eyes, and the other sense impressions kind of go by the wayside.

But this summer, I've been really noticing the amazing sounds I'm surrounded by. Syrupy, trilling bird sounds that waft into my window at first light, then accompany me throughout the day. In our walks, often through meadows, I'm immersed in the swoop-swoop-swoops, the chipperree-ree-rees of the birds, the whirs and buzzes of the cicadas, the hum of all the many bees lazing around the Black-eyed Susans and Cow Vetch and Queen Anne's Lace now. It's like a new country, paying attention to all the sounds.

Then there are the man-made sounds of summer, the Taiko drummers, the polka bands, the crooners in the parks that have freebie concerts. And what would summer be without thunder?

So, this weekend, pay attention to sound. Go to a freebie concert, take a meadow walk for birdsong, go to the park and listen to the kids screeching like gulls, their feet pounding the packed dirt of playgrounds. Then write it. Draw the thunder, if you dare.

Happy On A Field Trip

I'm feeling much better, so am thinking of all I need to cram in during the (possibly) healthy weeks I have until the weather turns again. It seems I am the most unwell when the temperature shifts are forty degrees or more (say, 40 degrees at night, and 80 during the day, a frequent occurence in August, September, etc, around here. So, I'm on the lookout for fun things to do close by, so I can enjoy at least a bit of summer. Which brings me to the subject of field trips.

Remember field trips when you were a kid? Our field trips really were to fields -- where the boys would play baseball, or set off rockets, and the girls would watch them desultorily, gossip about who liked who, or talked about who was hotter, Donny Osmond or Keith Partridge (really). Then we'd all walk to Friendly's for an ice cream cone, and John Fernandez would push me and I'd fall in the gravel and skin my knee.

Thankfully, I am older now, and can do much better than that. Today, I'm planning a trip to Old Deerfield, to gawk at historic houses, take photos, in the name of research for my books. Then get a tea at Rao's in Amherst and do a little writing. Later in the week, I may go to hike Greylock or Hawley Forest, for research as well. That's one of the great things about being a writer. One always needs to do research of some sort. I really should go to Las Vegas, but that's a little much.

In any case, this week search out some fun field trips for this summer. Field trips that are educational, or physically challenging, or in other ways stimulating. Take advantage of your local heritage. If you live near Gettysburg, or a CA mission, or Mark Twain's house but never have been, what's a matta fa you? Go, and write it, draw it.

Happy Outside!!!

Since it's such a fine day, and I'm feeling tramendously sick (stupid fibro!)and onviously can't even spelllll, I suggest we take the weekend off, and just enjoy being outside. Let's cut ourselves some slack and be unapologetic about it!

Happy With a Treat

First of all, this computer is acting wierd again, so no guarantees...why I'm a day late and a dollar short. Well, I'm usually a dollar short, but that's got to change sometime, no?

In any case, the post today is about getting through one's day more happily than might otherwise be expected. I've been feeling really well these past few weeks. Inexplicably the fibro-fog has mostly lifted, and may stay away until at least mid-August when the weather changes and we have 40 degree temperature shifts all the time again. But I've not been exactly jumping for joy, as I've lost my best companion Charming, don't have Sparky to kick around, and have been plagued some days by wretched allergies. So, what do I do when I should feel happy and energetic, but don't? I give myself some treats. It's something I learned from my dogs. Treats always seem to brighten their days considerably. And, like chicken jerky, your treats don't have to cost a lot. For instance, Sunday I went to a free jazz fest down the road in Springfield, at the beautiful Armory grounds. It made me feel great! I think music festivals are the epitome of summer. Today, I'm not sure what my treat might be, but possibly some iced tea at Starbucks, ($1.67 or so) or a soak in the gym hot tub, or fresh flowers (the biggest spurge, at approx. $5.00), but they will last a week or so.

This week, treat yourself, every day if you need to, even if it's summer and the weather is perfect and your life should be perfect. Or at least make a list of all the treats you prefer, so when you're down you won't forget. Then write and draw your treats, it's almost as good as getting them.

Happy In The Rain

We are having quite a rainy summer. It has rained, it seems, every day for weeks. With breaks of sun, actually lovely weather between raindrops. But it does not bode well for outdoor activities, and one of my favorite hols, Independence Day, is coming right up, with its scads of outdoor concerts, picnics, fairs, etc. And of course, fireworks, which I adore. But I have been planning ahead, or trying to, deciding what I will do, rain or shine. And really, the rain is usually gentle warm rain, and although I'd never seek it out, would never go to live in Seattle, for instance, rain has its charms. I love sitting with a cup of tea in my studio, looking out at the tattered clouds racing by or the almost daily branching bolts of lightning. I love having an excuse to read and read, then go to a cafe and read some more. And I seem to be accomplishing quite a bit actually working, as rain is also condusive to writing, and even slogging through the editing of my book.

So, this weekend, if you're unable to enjoy any outdoor fetes, remember the pleasures of a rainy weekend. Observe your surroundings, and your comforts. Luxuriate reading in your favorite chair. Bake something. Take a long bath. Write your memories of other rainy weekends (I remember fine times in Irish pubs, and a few remarkable rainy days camping in the redwoods, as well as in Nova Scotia) Have lots of tea available while you write and draw.

Happy At the Polish Picnic

Well, it's that time again, the time of fairs and festivals. A time I truly love. Yesterday, went to the Christ the King Parish Picnic in Ludlow, MA with mom. We ate pierogi, brought some home, and listened to the Polish band play, among other things, a Cajun song I recognized from Beausoleil's catalogue. Met old friends and did some people-watching. It was fun. I hope to go to many other fairs and fests, among them, the tiny yet wonderful Heath Fair, the Hawley Pudding Contest, the Hoop City Jazz Fest, Mass Morgan Horse Show and/or the Reining Horse show. The Lowell Folk Fest is probably a no-go for me (dog care issues), but I highly recommend it, and it's FREE! And I always hope to discover others. This year, need to find more close to home (dogs and driving issues). But I am confident that I will discover fun wherever I look! As mom is fond of saying, I'm a good time girl.

So, this week, plan how you're going to have good times this summer. Get publications, look on the web, remember all the things you used to do in the summer, when you had more $ and time. Plan to do a few anyway. Then write about your anticipation! That's sometimes the best part...

Happy If You Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'

Like most sentient beings in the world, I was stunned by the death of Michael Jackson. It is like the 80's died, very suddenly without warning. Being only a few years younger than the man himself, his music was huge on the soundtrack of my life. His passing made me think of many issues: fame and the devastation it has wrought in so many lives, our inadequacy to judge another person's heart, how a seemingly gentle and shy soul can also have the astounding ability to entertain, indeed to keep riveted, huge crowds of people. But what I keep coming back to is the music. I listen to more opera than pop these days-- Renee Fleming is my heartthrob now. But I love all kinds of music. I listen to polkas on Saturday mornings, go to hear bluegrass and jazz, big bands, wispy girls with guitars whenever I can. Some of my must sees are Greg Brown, Richard Thompson, BR-549, Hem, Jane Siberry, Bruce Springsteen, the Primate Fiasco, and the list goes on. But when I was in college, Michael Jackson was up there with Joan Armatrading, Roxy Music, Steely Dan. Not a dining hall dance went by without at least the vast majority of Thriller being blasted, while I Moonwalked (badly) like everyone else.

So, this weekend, start somethin' by digging out some of your old CD's, cassettes, (dare I say 8-tracks or vinyl?) and replay the soundtrack of your life. Dance around in your kitchen until you're sweaty. Remember your misspent youth. Then write it, draw it.

Happy In Your Own Time

In order to distract myself from my grief over the loss of my lovely Charming (grief which is coming in odd waves, not predictable), I went to see the new Star Trek movie. I haven't been to the movies in ages. Now I want to go to the movies every day. Only one of my remaining wonder dogs had diarrhea (in the house) while I was gone. I was only gone 2 1/2 hours. I know the dogs are grieving, too, and evidently don't want to be without me. We are spending the day together today. Maybe this is too much information.

In any case, what I started out to say was that the movie was pretty great. One of the elements was a time-travel element, common in sci-fi. It made me think about the time we live in (are there alternate times/realities? do we live in different times all at once, etc.). I really like the early 21st century, I have to say, although I am an odd combination. I am part Luddite (one who hates modern technology, from the Luddite movemebnt of 19th century England, resisting power looms to weave cloth, thereby putting many weavers out of work -- think Silas Marner). But I also kind of marvel and revel in all the technology we have, that just keeps blossoming. When I was in college, I used a typewriter. Now lots of kids in college haven't ever seen one.

So, this week, contemplate all the wonders of our world. Think of what you would do without them, and be grateful and happy that you have them. No e-mail? No wonderful blogs? No GPS? Aaaargh! Or maybe you are a Luddite, too, do without them and are thankful. However you feel, write it, draw it.

Requiescat In Pace

Charming Szarlan, (?)2004-June 17th, 2009

Charming left this life very peacefully on Wednesday, after a lovely last drive through the hay-scented evening. I can see him running with his friends in dog heaven, bolting after small creatures, swimming in streams and ponds, rolling in the tall grass, or, preferably, powdery snow.

Lately, my writing prompts have run to list-making, so as I've been remembering every little thing about him, I've been making lists of all the things that made him his Charming self. His adventures, his few misdeeds, all his quirks. For instance:
1) when we first met, when I went down to Trenton NJ to get him, how he jumped right in the truck, happy from the first to go with me
2) how he'd take off on toots from the farmhouse where we first lived together, and always be gone exactly 3 hours, usually from 10pm-1am
3) how during a meeting of my writing group, after everyone had been admiring a lovely glossy brown loaf of millet bread that I'd put on the table with some goat cheese for our snack, Charming jumped up on the table, snatched said loaf and devoured it while we were in the next room (Charming happened to be missing a back leg).
4) how he'd always greet every day with joy, bouncing on the bed to get me up so we could both enjoy it

So, this weekend, concentrate on your favorite person in the world, on all the things you love and that drive you mad and make you laugh until you cry. List them, write about at least one in detail. I hope you are able to have a peaceful and joyous few days, in Charming's honor.

Happy Every Precious Day

My lovely, 15-year-old, most perfect dog, Charming, is in his last days. (See photo, right) I've been spending every moment I can with him, waking and sleeping. It is such a privilege to be with him, to help him to be happy and comfortable. Holding him, helping him eat a little, carrying him around when he's a little logy and too weak to walk. It makes me realize how precious every day is with the creatures we love, with the beauty that surrounds us.

This week, look around you. What is precious to you? Who is precious to you? Appreciate them. Write them, draw them. Love every precious day.

Happy Taking Tea

I love tea. Sitting down with a book and a cup of tea is one of the high points of my day (or actually, a few of the high points, as I have multiple cups, and reads). But it's even better when I invite a friend to tea. Make some lavender cookies, or apricot scones. Maybe in another incarnation, even one in the upcoming years -- I will have a tea shop, and be able to have this experience on a daily basis. Sharing tea and stories can't be beat. Since we've been having rainy, humid, coldish weather, a tea break with a friend is even more necessary.

So I advise you to invite a friend for tea, coffee, a martini, with appropriate snacks sometime this weekend. Go out for tea, at a tearoom or perhaps a museum near you. Around the Pioneer Valley and Berkshires, I can recommend Amherst Coffee and Tea, or Rao's, (also in Amherst)for a hipper crowd. If you want to go all out, hit The Mount, Edith Wharton's house in Lenox, and have tea on the veranda overlooking the lovely gardens -- although that's a little pricey, $16 for admission, then the tea. But maybe best of all is serving tea in the comfort of your home, with a friend or friends for company. Then write it, draw it.

Happy With The Small Things...

Had a good weekend. Planted stuff. Tomatoes, cucumbers, brussels sprouts. Of course, basil. Hurt all over, but slept a lot and felt better. Did not go to the Cow Parade, but did go to dog agility trials on Saturday, with friend Aimee. As always, it was a hoot. I love seeing all the dogs, of every ilk. And it's really hilarious watching people 'walk' the course. Really, most of them dance it, signalling and talking to their imaginary dogs. It's as much fun as watching the real runs, maybe better. We sat in lawnchairs in the sun and got burned and dehydrated and had ice cream after, and then wicked headaches from not drinking enough water. The most perfect, simple summer day.

This week, reflect on all the simple and wonderful things in your life. Dogs, basil, ice cream, sunlight or rain, whatever floats your boat. Things that don't cost much, but are wonders in their way. Write them, draw them. And be grateful.

Happy At The Cow Parade

Tomorrow, if all goes well, I'm going to a cow parade. Sounds exotic, right? It's a celebration of Vermont's dairy and farming industries, and is held in Brattleboro, VT the first weekend in June every year, in case you're interested. And yes, the cows do parade up the Main street, cow flops and all. it's quite a sight, and no one can help being happy, at least for the duration of the mooing, bellowing parade.

So, to celebrate the wierd and wacky in your life, do something unusual this weekend. If there's not a cow parade in a town near you, try for the next best thing. Something odd and out there, even if it's only odd to you. Go to a darts tournament, a Titanic Museum, highland games where guys hurl big rocks while wearing skirts. Then write it, draw it! And have some fun!

Happy Digging In the Dirt

Since I've been feeling pretty punk this month (fibromyalgia rearing its ugly head since Easter), I've been trying to get enough exercise, but sometimes I'm so spaced out I can't drive to the gym. Of course, I walk my dogs every day, but I also need upper body exercise, which I swear is the best thing for this idiotic condition. I used to do a lot of gardening, but have been procrastinating this year. My mum's garden is overshadowed now by big hemlocks and pines that were two feet high when I was a baby. Makes me feel my age. But on Thursday, when I went to support the arts and purchase the local high school literary magazine from a friend who's daughter has a poem in, my kind friend also gave me clumps of rose campion, anise, a pepper plant, and three beefsteak tomato seedlings. I got real value for my $10! So, I had to get the garden going, dig a bed in a sunny spot. Which I did last night, in the midst of wild weather, high winds, an impending freeze. I got my upper body work-out, and that lovely satisfaction that comes from forgetting where and who I am while digging out weeds and stirring earth.

So, this week, find your equivalent. Do some digging, or running, or other outdoor exercise that frees your mind and engages you with the earth in some way. Then write it/draw it.

Happy With A Camera On Your Head

On Tuesday, some of my students and I went to a reading at the fantastic Odyssey bookstore in South Hadley, MA. Elinor Lipman, who is wit and charm and ease personified, read from her very funny, poignant new book, The Family Man. Which was great. It was even greater that we went out afterwards to Johnny's Bar and Grille (it sounds like a dive, but it's not, it's actually fancy for a place that calls itself a guy's name bar and grille). We had a fine time yacking about books and bookish event possibilities -- we like our field trips, we are party girls. We also tossed around some interesting ideas. Karen (working on a mystery novel) told us about her son's band's new video, for which they all wore cameras on their heads and filmed each other onstage. Missy (historical novel circa the nineteen teens) said we should do the same. We could film ourselves at writerly events, and even working at the computer in our pajamas. I said we could call it Our Amazing Writing Life. I really want to do it. I wonder how much cameras you put on your head cost?

This weekend, think of what people would see if you had a camera on your head, filming your amazing life. How exotic and wonderful your life would seem to someone living in a comnpletely different society. What would be striking to them? What would they be amazed by? Try to see your life through the eyes of a Botswana grandmother, or a Bolivian potter. If you don't happen to have an actual camera on your head, write or draw the amazing bits of your life.

Not Happy...

I can't believe it! I wrote a fun post Tuesday, and was having trouble publishing it, but I finally thought it went. Obviously, it didn't. I know this is akin to "The dog ate my homework," but it's true, nonetheless. I can't post now, as the dogs (who have been known to eat just about anything) are in the car. I'll forget it and try it again tomorrow, my usual day, so see you in the ether then!

Just So You Know...

My Monday post next week will actually not be available until Tuesday, due to the Monday holiday and closed libraries (still no home or studio internet access, alas). Have a safe and happy Mem. Day!

Happy Deja Vu

Well, it's Memorial Day weekend, and this post is dedicated to memory. My memory, at least the last few weeks, is shot. So I want to memorialize it. I used to be able to remember where everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) was in my house. Needle-nose pliers? Oh, yeah, in the second drawer in the pantry. Beneath the placemats. What about that last American Studies exam? On the shelf in the closet above my clothes, tucked between my second-year French book and my Junior yearbook.

So it came as quite a surprise to me that I could forget such essentials as putting my dog in the car after a walk (she was fine - hanging out with the landscaping ladies at the Middle School when I remembered, after having gone all the way home and back). Today I forgot to secure my sunglasses ($35) when I took them off during another walk - more like a hike up Wilbraham Mountain. So I had to return and search for them, essentially repeating the same hour-long hike I had this morning. It was OK. No actually it was great. I saw things I hadn't the first time around. A robin's egg blue robin's egg. Wild columbine, some pink mallow, a jack in the pulpit. The blue sky. The waving grasses. I smelled lots, too - hay-scented fern and honeysuckle, and unnacountably, fresh peaches. And I found my sunglasses, too. And now I remember this day, that walk, differently, and better.

So this weekend,instead of doing something new and different, as I often urge, do the same old thing, but pay attention. Go to the same old Memorial Day Parade, or the same family cookout. Notice differences. Really look, and smell, and hear, so you can remember it all differently, and better. Then write down your experiences, or draw them, or both, which is best of all.

Happy To Be Here

I was reading last week about yet another study of the world's happiest countries. They seem to be heavily concentrated in the colder climes of Europe, ie, Sweden, Switzerland. That would not work for me. I am allergic to the cold. So, even though I live in the relatively cold and snowy Northeast, I would never contemplate a move to another cold climate. California, perhaps. Florida I would consider. Even Ireland, with its admittedly soggy yet Gulf Stream-influenced temperate temperature might be OK. The many art, literary, music festivals would do a lot to make up for the rain. And the witty, wordy and kind Irish themselves.

This week if I had to choose, though, my choice might be an odd one. It might be the Botswana of Alexander McCall Smith's marvelous #1 Ladies Detective Agency series. He writes of a kinder, gentler country, where people are happy to sit together drinking tea and conversing, or simply watching cattle (although I'd prefer horses, myself). They sometimes do foolish or wicked things, giving Mma Ramotwe, said lady detective, some scope for her business. But by and large, the pace is slow and calm in the office on Tlokweng Road, and there is plenty of time for tea, speculation with her assistant, Mma Makutsi, and magazine reading.

If I can't move to Botswana though, I realize I am fairly content here, in the small town I grew up in, where the fine horror writer, H.P. Lovecraft, spent some time. He modeled many of his landscapes on the rather boggy, craggy, piney land I walked as a child, and now have returned to as an adult. It is in the creepy New England literary tradition I love, but I find it a cheerful place nonetheless, and the Lovecraft association makes it rather fun. I wonder if I am setting my foot where he did, on Springfield Mountain and its surrounding orchards.

This week, contemplate your own surroundings. What makes you happy about where you find yourself? What would you miss if you moved to Botswana (or Sweden)? Whose footsteps do you follow? Write it, draw it.

The Past Is Always With Us

When I was a teenager, I used to cut classes and head out with my best friend Susan to an apple orchard in our town, right across from the high school. We'd while away the hours hiking the extensive trails in and around the orchard. We brought idyllic lunches of sage cheese and bread, and had picnics overlooking the entire Pioneer Valley from our orchard perch. In the fall we could pick up all kinds of windfalls -Macouns and Pauls Reds and Golden Delicious and my personal favorite, the later Northen Spys. In the spring, we felt as if the orchards bloomed cloud-like just for us. We had magical times in that orchard, times I thought for these many years could not be recovered, only remembered with great pleasure.

When I moved back to my home town, I expected that all my old stomping grounds would be paved or built ovwer with houses. But I've been re-discovering my past, in the fields behind the Middle School, where I first rode a pony (owned by a wonderful woman who let my friend Holly and I spend hours grooming and riding said pony, Misty, with not a thought of liability - to give you some idea of my ancientness). I've been wandering trails that are not yet vanished, only somewhat curtailed by development and dirt bikes in my own little neighborhood. But the apple orchard eluded me. Houses had been built around all the old entrances to the orchard, and although I knew it was still there, I couldn't get to it. I drove countless roads searching, and not finding, thinking it was lost to me forever.

But just a few days ago, I discovered that part of the orchard had been given over to a nature preserve. I did find the access roed, and took a phenomenal, nostalgic walk in one of my favorite places in the world. To most people, Rice's Fruit Farm couldn't hold a candle to the Grand Canyon, the cliffs of the west coast of Ireland, the views from the Presidio of San Fransisco Bay, but it is one of the homes of my heart. It brings me right back to my youth, when all things were possible.

So, this weekend, go back there yourself. You may not still live in your hometown, but re-experience something you once loved, that brings your childhood right back to you. Get some fingerpaints, ride a bike, color with your kid's Crayolas. Then draw it, write it.

Bad Anniversary

I don't know about you, but I have a few 'bad' anniversaries in the calendar year. Days when really bad things happened to myself or my loved ones. Tomorrow, May 12, is such a day for me, the anniversary of the worst day of my life thus far. It's a matter of interest to me how people weather these days in their lives. I have had various methods of dealing with this over the years. Sometimes I stay in bed all day. Sometimes I take a long hike with my dogs. Sometimes I plan a trip, by myself or with said dogs, so I will be in different surroundings. But I always bow to it, acknowledge it, because if I don't days like this come back to bite me in the butt. One year I was traveling for other reasons, and forgot the anniversary of my father's death. I felt sick all day, and logy and tearful, and had no idea why. The next day I happened to pick up a paper, read the date, and remembered the previous day had been my dad's death day. I knew why I'd felt so crappy. I think it's at least good to know why you feel crappy, and be able to prepare for it. Another thing I try to do is to notice beauty, to try to be amused, to attempt, if not to actually be happy, at least to not let the day go by without some acknowledgement of the loveliness of the world. Yesterday, for instance, I took my mom to a Chinese buffet for Mother's Day, and noticed all the mums and daughters. Old and young mums, large and small. Little girls in pretty spring dresses and old ladies with their even older lady mothers (I guess I'd have to include myself in this group). Every one, young and old, seemed to be eating mounds of soft-serve ice cream after their meals, swirling it in big spirals, licking at it or spooning delicately. I'd already had my fruit and fried dough dessert, so will look forward to next time at the Chinese buffet.
So, this week, notice the small things that bring you back to yourself, and also things you can look forward to. The blue of the sky, the little leaves, the smell of cut grass, big swirls and loops of soft-serve. Write and/or draw about what remains good in the world around you, in spite of bad days.

The Journey Is Better Than The Inn

Supposedly that's from Don Quixote, but I haven't had time to check it out, and it's been many years since I read Cervantes's masterwork. But it sounds about right for this time of year, of my life, etc. I hve been following the writing path for awhile, and I think I'm getting somewhere, in spite of some set backs, having about $1.67 more than I absolutely need every month, and feeling like I'm maybe crazy. Following one's dream is usually a long, long, LONG process. We forget that fact when we begin, or willfully ignore it, then moan and whine when it seems to take forever. But from now on, I'm going to say "I'm living my dream," for really, although I haven't reaped all the rewards, it's a great journey. I have my studio, my great students, and the glory of being able to write every day for hours at a time. That's pretty amazing. And as most of us have experienced, sometimes the dream come true leaves us longing for the journey, remembering it fondly in the light of all the new worries and responsibilities the achievement of the dream brings.

So, in the spirit of enjoying your journey, take a walk with a notebook and pen. Jot down all the things you see, hear, touch, smell, that bring you joy. Draw the tulips, or the lilacs, the new-budding leaves. Or the children in their bright spring clothes (unless you're a guy, that could be dangerous, unfortunately)or the bright paper wrappers blowing through a suddenly greening abandoned lot. Enjoy the journey!

(My new resolve, in case anyone is interested, is to post a new happiness-bringing exercise every Monday and Friday. So dig out your happiness notebook and join me on the journey. It's time to leave the inn!)

Resurrection 2

I noticed yesterday that May 5th last year was the last time I posted on this blog. The Day of the Dead, Cinquo de Mayo. I thought how appropriate to let this blog die on that day. Then I thought, it's kind of crazy that I let it die at all. So, one year to the day after the decease of this blog dedicated to happiness, consider it resurrected.

The truth is, I let one creepy comment (although it was extensive and seemed never-ending) stop me from continuing to post. Ridiculous! (Remember Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban? I've eaten A LOT of chocolate in a year, so I should be completely recovered from my encounter with the Dementor)

So, I'm not quite sure yet what form this blog will take now...but the Resurrection has officially occurred. Happy Day of the Dead.