Simple Life

Meaningful Happiness

When you think about it, the ordinar y becomes extraordinar y

by Jim D oDson I bumped into

a friend in the produce section at the market. We had not seen each other since the start of the pandemic — well over a year ago, if not longer — long enough for me to briefly forget her name, though maybe I was just having the proverbial senior moment.

In any case, when I asked how she’d been, she simply smiled. “Like ever yone, it’s been pret t y cha lleng ing. But, a lso k ind of revea ling. It may sound f unny, but I discovered that pick ing beautif ul vegetables to cook for my family makes me rea lly happy. Prev iously, shopping seemed more like a necessar y chore than a pr iv ilege. I g uess I’ve lear ned that the ordinar y things prov ide the most meaning f ul happiness.”

We w ished each other safe and happy holidays and said goodbye. She went of f to the organic onions and I went in search of the specia l spiced apple cider that only comes round dur ing the aut umn holidays — an ordinar y thing, it suddenly str uck me, that prov ides “meaning f ul ” happiness to my taste buds. For what it’s wor th, though too late to count, I a lso suddenly remembered my f r iend ’s name: Donna.

Quite honestly, in a ll the years I’ve steeped my tin- cup soul into the work s of g reat spir it ua l teachers, classica l philosophers, transcendenta l thinkers, L ake Distr ict poets and street- cor ner crank s, I’d never come across the phrase meaning ful h appiness.

But suddenly — like an ear-bur row ing T V jingle or a favor ite song f rom the 1970s — I couldn’t get the idea of it out of my head. Mank ind ’s search for happiness and meaning, of course, probably constit utes the oldest quest on E ar th, beg inning w ith a fabled naked couple in a heavenly garden, though as any ancient sage wor thy of his or her plinth w ill tell you, tr ue happiness is not something you can acquire f rom the outside world. Even a fashionable fig leaf can only cover so much.

Objects and possessions can cer tainly prov ide a shot of pleasure, but they invar iably lose their power to possess us somewhere dow n the line as r ust and dust prevail. At the end of the day, as our w ise old g randmothers patiently adv ised, tr ue happiness can only come f rom the way you think about who you are and what you choose to do. A s a famous old Presby ter ian preacher once remarked to me as we sat together on his porch on a golden Ver mont af ter noon: “W hat we choose to worship, dear boy, is what we event ua lly become.”

T his cur ious idea of meaning f ul happiness, in any case, str uck me as a highly usef ul tool — a way of defining or, bet ter, refining — what k inds of people, things and moments in life are wor thy of our close at tention in a world that a lways seems to be beyond our control and on the verge of coming apar t at the seams. For most of us, like my f r iend Donna’s awakening among the vegetables, the ar t of discovering meaning f ul happiness simply lies in recog nizing the ordinar y people, things and moments that fill up and g race an average day.

My gardening hero, T homas Jef ferson — “I’m an old man but a new gardener,” as he once w rote to a f r iend — was an inveterate listmaker. A nd so am I.

So, nat ura lly, I began tak ing menta l inventor y of the blessedly sma ll and ordinar y people, things and moments that prov ide meaning f ul happiness in a time like no other I can reca ll.

I’m sure — or simply hope — you have you ow n list. Here’s a br ief sampling of mine:

R ainy Sundays g ive me meaning f ul happiness. T he heavens replenishing my pr ivate patch of E den. No fig leaf needed.

Speak ing of which, I’ve spent most of the pandemic building an ambitious A sian-inspired shade garden in my back yard, though probably more Bubba than Buddha if you want to k now the Gospel. Even so, it’s g ranted me g reat peace and pur pose, untold hours of ponder ing and planning, no sma ll amount of dreaming while digg ing in the soil, delv ing in the soul, br ing ing an ar tist who work s in red clay a lit tle bit closer to God ’s hear t.

Unexpected phone c a lls f rom his far-flung chi ldren prov ide t his papa ser ious meaning f u l happiness. T hey g rew up in a beaut if u l beech forest in Ma ine, assured by t heir old man t hat k indness and imag inat ion cou ld t a ke t hem any where in t he world. Today, one lives in L os A ngeles and work s in fi lm, t he ot her is a work ing jour na list in t he Midd le E ast. T hey are telling t he stor ies of our t ime. T his g ives t he old man simple joy f rom t wo direct ions, E ast and West.

Cour teous strangers a lso make me uncommonly happy these days — people who smile, open doors for others, wear the world w ith an unhur r ied g race. Dit to people who use t ur n sig na ls and don’t speed to make the light, sav ing lives instead of time; those who rea lize the jour ney is rea lly the point. For this reason, I a lways take the back road home.

Mow ing the law n for the first time in spr ing makes me sur pr isingly happy, as does mow ing it for the fina l time in aut umn, bedding dow n the yard.

In summer, I love nothing bet ter than an af ter noon nap w ith the w indows w ide open; or watching the birds feed at sunset w ith an excellent bourbon in hand, ev idence of a g row ing appreciation for what our Ita lian f r iends ca ll Dolce far nient e — “T he sweetness of do ing nothing.” Dit to golf w ith new f r iends and lunch w ith old ones, early church, old Baptist hy mns and well-wor n jeans. My late Baptist g ranny would be appa lled.

L et me be clear, eating anything in Ita ly makes me wondrously happy — for a few blessed hours, at least.

Watching the w inter stars before daw n makes me blessedly happy, too, a long w ith wool blankets, the first snow, homemade egg nog, the deep quiet of Chr istmas Eve, the myster y of cer tain presents, long wa lk s w ith the dogs, w r iting notes by hand and my w ife’s incredible cinnamon cr umb apple pie.

T his list could go on for a while, dear f r iends. It’s as unfinished as its ow ner.

But time is precious, and you have bet ter things to do this month — like shop, eat and be mer r y w ith the f r iends and family you may not have been w ith in years.

L et me just say that I hope December br ings you tr ue meaning f ul happiness.

W hatever that means to you. OH Jim Dodson is th e foun ding edit or of O.Henr y.