practicing happiness

Some twelve years ago, when I was a tender, mumbly sophomore in college, I applied for a small scholarship from a philanthropic foundation specializing in journalistic education. In order to get the scholarship, I had to be interviewed over the phone by some hard-nosed news editor who evaluated all the scholarship candidates. I've forgotten just about every detail of that uncomfortable little exchange, but I do remember the editor closing the interview by asking me some ridiculously lofty question, something like, "What do you think the most important thing for humans to do with themselves in this day and age?"

I was extraordinarily nervous about this whole interview, and not at all prepared for a question of that magnitude, but I remember scraping together my faltering self-assurance and saying something incredibly somber like, "I think it's important for humans to really be serious and do a good job in everything they do." That was basically my answer.

Years later, I'm recalling that conversation and wondering how it was that I got to be so serious. Endless productivity is a massive bore.

Maybe what I'm starting to feel this week is a weird byproduct of being a distant heir of that pack of overzealous, hardworking Puritans that came over on the Mayflower a few generations ago. I don't know. But as of this week, being on vacation is starting to get hard.

When you go on an open-ended sabbatical with no job waiting for you at the end, the rat brain comes out to play. No matter how much the rational part of my brain knows that I am completely fine, the rat brain does not care. The past few days, I have begun to feel some weird tremors of worry, panic, and scarcity. Real rat brain stuff, stuff I haven't felt in a while. In an idle moment, I will start thinking about how I need to find work. Or I'll get agitated, or chide myself to do something "productive."

This afternoon, I took a long walk, and I realized that my job right now is to practice happiness. To simply rest, enjoy my time off, and to be content. There is absolutely no need to flail around and wonder anxiously where I'm going to get a job. There's much more to life than being endlessly serious and productive. I want to fully enter this state of uncertainty, and to do so knowing that I am sustained and safe.

The poem I just posted in Ephemera speaks beautifully to this issue. I think I need to print that poem out and tape it to my forehead so I don't forget.