10 ways to find joy

Perhaps if I woke up each morning to a view of Carbis Bay in Cornwall, I would not be looking for ways to increase the joy in my life.  Who knows?  Although it is very small, I do have a beautiful backyard garden.  All of the labor I put into maintaining it is more than worth it.  Good things may occasionally come our way, but more often than not they result from the effort we expend and the choices we make.  And just maybe, sometimes we face roadblocks, only because we don’t realize we can take them down.

Someone I know has struggled most of her life with anger management.  We have all run across one of those people, who allows the pressure to build inside until he or she has an outburst.  The recipient of the resulting tirade becomes doubly despised: first, for holding unsavory views or having irritating personality traits, and secondly, for possessing the uncanny and oddly self-destructive ability to deliberately “push the buttons” of the explosive acquaintance or relative.

Everyone experiences anger and needs to release it from time to time.  I may have learned a little about how to express it in a temperate way.  However, I have had more success with minimizing it, which is more effective than trying to rein it in. Here is a list of 10 things I do.

  1. Every day, at least once, I count my blessings.  The older I get, the more often I do this. 
  1. Monday through Friday I start my day reading an inspirational message from a Christian friend who lives in Tennessee.  His daily missives include prayers, trivia, inspiring quotes, humor, and details of his life.  I always discover a bit of wisdom or something that makes me laugh.  There are books and online sources that provide daily inspirational readings.
  1. Five years ago, I turned off the television.  The news media peddles anger and fear.  Find truth by believing what you see in the world with your own eyes.  I can stream entertainment, but a good book, a long walk, or meeting with friends is more rewarding.  Splurge now and again and go to the theater.
  1. I smile.  When was a young woman, I often wore an angry or unhappy mask.  Not anymore.  Strangers sense my good mood and the unexpected payback enriches me more than I deserve.
  1. I try to look my best whenever I leave the house, even if it is just for a 15-minute walk in the neighborhood.  You might be surprised at how many people notice and approach me to say so. This happens in parks, parking lots, grocery stores, airports, and on city streets.
  1. Every morning I do 10 minutes of strenuous exercise.  It’s difficult, but I feel great for the rest of the day.
  1. If I’m home for a meal, I always sit at the dining room table and eat off of pretty dishes.  Most evenings, I dine by candlelight.  Every day I have fresh fruit and vegetables and a little dark chocolate.
  1. At least once a week, I have a lunch date with a friend. My friendships are a treasure.
  1. I treat strangers kindly. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I generally receive more from this than anything I give. 
  1. My mature years allow me to be forthright with positive thoughts or feelings. I like to tell the person I am with how much he or she has impressed me.

The more I clear out bad feelings, the more room I have for good ones.  A balance in emotions is inevitable, but anger does not need to be in the equation.  My aim is to find joy.  One of the blessings of joy is that it is infectious.

The opposite of joy is sorrow.  As joy increases, so may sorrow.  But sorrow is not destructive.  Someone’s sorrow has no power to hurt another human being.  It’s one of life’s paradoxes that having known sorrow, we may more fully experience the moments of joy.

Those quiet spaces

As much as I love the energy and bustle of New York, at some point in my visits to that great city, I inevitably seek the quiet spaces. In this time of forced isolation due to the pandemic, many of us are looking for ways to safely connect with one another. Yet perhaps because so much of my lifetime has been spent in the mostly solitary pursuits of painting and writing, I still take comfort in solitude.

Central Park in Autumn

When walking in Central Park in autumn, it is easy to get away from crowds. It may not be the wisest thing to do, but I take the precaution of making sure there are a few other people about, enjoying the sights and sounds of nature in the urban oasis.

West 76th Street

Neither the photo of Central Park nor the one of West 76th Street was taken in the midst of a quarantine. The day was a cool, sunny, pleasant one in mid-October, when a late morning stroll on Columbus Avenue meant being swept along in a current of a moving throng. By just turning a corner, I was suddenly in a different world.

The world in which we now find ourselves is a tricky one. As I sit at home, doing research for my next book, organizing data, writing, editing, reading, I still think about those quiet spaces, and wish with all my heart that we may all soon safely travel to them.

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Life without regret

La Bohème Curtain Call

La Bohème: Curtain Call at the Metropolitan Opera

Before my sister decided to be a candidate for the state senate, she called Dad, seeking his advice.  He told her that she may or may not have regrets if she decided to run, but it was a certainty that she would always have doubts if she decided not to do so. He was right, of course. She chose to run.

The Metropolitan Opera season premiere of Giacomo Puccini’s La Bohème was in late September. This production featured the Italian tenor Vittorio Grigolo in the role of Rodolfo. I had wanted to go because Mr. Puccini is my favorite opera composer, La Bohème is my favorite opera, and Mr. Grigolo is my favorite tenor. The Met is the theatre where I saw my first opera, many years ago, and I had never been back. 

Dad became quite ill in August, so I made no travel plans to Manhattan from my West Coast home. After Dad passed away in early September, it may have been fear or inertia or mourning that kept me from scheduling the trip, but that gnawing regret was ever present.

When I read the glowing review of La Bohème in the New York Times the morning after opening night, I knew that I had to see it. Besides, I needed to strengthen my commitment to my new book, and that meant an expedition into the living, breathing world of opera.

Although it had been many years since I had been to New York, and had never traveled there without having a friend on hand, I overcame my fear. I purchased a front-row ticket to Mr. Grigolo’s closing night, bought the plane ticket and booked the hotel.

The weekend in New York exceeded my dreams. Seeing La Bohème at the Met was a thrill. The woman sitting next to me was delightful, and we had a lively conversation before the show and during one of the intermissions. I told her that her insights into opera were going to be helpful to me as I write my next historical novel. She asked me if I had ever met Mr. Grigolo. I replied that I had not. To my surprise, she invited me to accompany her and her friend after the performance, and she would introduce me.

As you may have noticed from the awkwardness of the following photograph, I do not take selfies. However, Mr. Grigolo does, and he graciously took this one of the two of us.

Vittorio Grigolo & Me

Vittorio Grigolo & Me

One of my new friends took the photograph of me with Nicole Car, the beautiful Australian soprano who performed in the role of Mimi.

Nicole Car

Nicole Car & Me

No regrets. Dad would be proud.