Happy Habits

Subtle signs of contentment in the day to day grind.

I would like to take a few minutes to recognize something I call “Happy Habits” that come and go from my life and right now we’re in a “come” season. I don’t question why they “go” but I do know that when these habits present themselves… when I recognize that my subconscious has made them a physical activity… I notice I am usually very content and happy in that moment and so I have labeled them “Happy Habits”. It happens so notably that when I realize I haven’t done one or more of them in weeks or months or sometimes years, that’s when I hermit down and start reassessing every aspect of my life to find out why I am so discontented. So unhappy.

Singing – I am not a great singer by any means, but I still love making melodic noises with my face. I joke and say my voice was only made for lullabies, and that’s not entirely wrong, but also not entirely true. As a person who loves music the way I love breathing or existing or being a real human, I don’t know that NOT singing along to my favorite songs was ever an option. I enjoy butchering a song at karaoke, or singing in the kitchen while I’m cooking or blasting the radio in the car and belting out a good one. Would I every do this as a profession? Hell no. Would I ever record myself for others? Probably not. Would I enjoy teaching an elementary class how to express themselves through a myriad of music that makes sense of feelings they are only just beginning to recognize? Absolutely.

But sometimes I lose my voice. Not physically… just…

I’ll be in the middle of a long drive and realize I haven’t turned the radio on. I haven’t made a sound in an hour. I forgot music was an option. Time to check in with myself and assess where and when I disconnected from that piece of joy.

Lately I’ve been singing into microphones.

Writing – I’m already seeing a pattern as I freewrite this draft, but I will say I am not a great writer. My process is that I will have a thought. A kernel. A nugget. Some inkling of a point I would like to make, and so I open my freewriting app on my laptop (Poe for those that are interested) and set a timer and go. I go until the idea becomes a fully-fleshed out explanation and there’s some sort of obvious through-line that takes my very personal human experience and expands it out until it fits neatly into the greater human condition. This doesn’t happen when I’m not at peace with myself.

I recently spent 7 months not writing a single original thought for public perusal. This was because all of my thoughts… my points… my inspired moments of revelation… were things I didn’t want to own. Things I couldn’t sign my name to because that would make them true. When I am at peace those impulses flow freely and I can share my Id without my Ego stopping me.

Lately I’ve been stockpiling personal essays for future publishing dates because they’re coming on so much faster than my self-set deadlines.

Cooking – Food is a love language for me. There is no situation too serious or silly that can’t be made better by the addition of a great snack.

Growing up with severe traumatic food insecurity (which is a story for my therapist unless you ask very nicely), I have a very deep understanding of food as both fuel and salve. It’s not something we can take for granted and the creation of it is a service we can give to help others be healthy, happy and whole. It’s a privilege that if we make a meal for someone else, we impact their lives for the better (unless they’re allergic to that nutmeg you just slipped into the fall pancake batter).

As a grown adult post-therapy, creating nourishing moments is something I take so much pride in, but when I am not right in my head and heart, the food comes out salty or raw or awful in some way. I get tired of my own cooking. I don’t trust myself in the kitchen. Knives fall, biscuits burn, and I cry. A lot.

Lately I’ve been making five-star meals to rival my favorite restaurant dishes.

Walking – Not the kind of walking we do everyday just to get our daily tasks done, but the kind of walking we do for fun. For health. To clear our heads and be somewhere else and connect with the earth.

I have a path cut through the woods behind my house that I maintain year round (usually), and I stepped onto it for the first time since last spring over the weekend. I noticed fallen tree branches and drifts of leaves blocking the way. Some areas were so overgrown I couldn’t quite spot where the path was supposed to be. This isn’t like me. I love this path. I’m not even the only one who uses this path but I am the one who makes a point of maintaining it.

That walking path is where I meet my step goals for personal fitness while also telling the change of the seasons and the nature of my moods. The goal there is a mossy clearing where I’ll eventually set a tent and walk barefoot while hunting for mushrooms and enjoying nature.

I’ve recently started clearing the deadfall and asking myself why I let this project go.

These happy habits all left me at once over the summer. Over the last year really. And they did that sneaky thing were they all Irish-exited out the back door so I didn’t notice their absence until I tried to gather it all together for an emotional headcount so to speak. When they’re gone I can’t force them back either. I can only look at what else is happening in my life that might possibly be pulling me away from living life in the way I feel happiest.

I’m satisfied to see that they are all returning to me now as I re-balance my life. And in celebration of their return, I want to ask… what are YOUR happy habits? How can an outsider tell when you are feeling at peace with yourself?