I think, if good health is the number one  factor in aging gracefully, happiness is the second. Joy, laughter, love of life and living things, sharing thoughts, finding creative endeavors that last a life time are the most we can expect from life.

I think the happiest people in the world are those who woke up one morning when they were three and said, “I like to color, ” and the kid had a relative who gave him some color crayons and a coloring book, maybe even some blank pieces of scrap  paper and said, “Do it.” One of the happiest grown ups I know loves to color. He uses crayons, blank white typewriter paper, and when he’s finished with his creative work that makes him happy, he sets it out in the sun to bake which does surprising and wonderful things to the waxy  pigment. I guess you could call it sunshine art. He doesn’t sell it. He doesn’t care about money or being famous. He cares about coloring.

Don’t you think that’s nice?

I know another guy, big guy, big-boned, strong arms-he work as a carpenter & is not gay-who decided if he had to work the rest of his life for his bread, butter and board, he’d find something to do he really enjoyed doing. So he became a clown. Self made. Dressed up in silly homemade costumes. Once he went as Cupid, in pink tights and a tutu, to an engagement party and, of course, reaped a harvest of laughter.  Made tons of money that he cared little or nothing about. He tossed most of it away. Literally. Threw it out the window of his car as he drove through town laughing as people- little kids, old folks, men and women-chased the long green funny stuff as it drifted and floated like wayward leaves up and down the busy streets.

I think of Bhutan, hidden land of happiness, where they have an enlightened development policy of  Gross National Happiness.

“Our gross national product now is over 800 billion dollars a year, but that gross national product, if we judge the US by that, counts air pollution, and cigarette advertising, and ambulances to clear our highways of carnage. It counts special locks for our doors and jails for people who break them. it counts the destruction of the redwoods and the loss of our natural wonder in chaotic squall. it counts napalm, and it counts nuclear warheads, and armored cars for the police to fight the riots in our cities. it counts Whitman’s rifles and Speck’s knives and the television programs, which glorify violence in order to sell toys to our children. Yet, the gross national product does not allow for the health of our children, the quality of their education, or the joy of their play. It does not include the beauty of our poetry or the strength of our marriages, the intelligence of our public debate or the integrity of our public officials. it measures neither our compassion nor our devotion to our country. It measures everything, in short, except that which make life worthwhile.” Robert F. Kennedy, March 1968. We miss you, Bobby.

Read a book. Take a walk in the rain. Talk to a dog. Pet a cat. Listen to the birdies sing. Paint. Dance down the aisles of the super market. Smell the flowers. Taste the wind. Find something simple-free-to be happy about today.


There are no comments on this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: