What Makes Us Happy?

A large wall mural of Abraham Lincoln and the quote "Most people are as happy as they make up their minds to be."

by Rev. Terry Davis

Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation

on May 3, 2015

Earlier this week, I attended a 12-step meeting at an office park near my home.

It’s a meeting I go to regularly, so the drive and location are very familiar. After the meeting was over, I got into my car and drove out of the parking lot to a side street with a stop sign at the end.

It was a bright and beautiful day. I felt calm and happy.

While I stopped at the three-way stop, I failed to see a shiny silver vehicle on my right that had its left signal on and wanted turn in front of me and down my street.

As I began to roll my car slowly out into the intersection, the driver laid on his horn, which startled me and caused me to slam on my brakes.

He proceeded to make his left-turn in front of me and started rolling down his window. I decided roll mine down, too, thinking I would offer an apology for my mistake and for not seeing him.

But before I could say the words, the driver looked at me and yelled out, “What are you doing, you idiot?!” . . . but he said something other than “idiot.” Mortified, I just stared at him as he rolled up his window and hurriedly drove his shiny silver car off into the sunshine.

After taking a deep breath, I, too, drove my car off into the sunshine, muttering to myself “Go to Timbuktu” . . . but I said something other than “Timbuktu.” Okay, I thought to myself. Not happy – not him, not me.

Then, just as quickly as it had arrived, my anger was gone. I was back to noticing the bright and beautiful day outside my open window. I once again felt calm and happy.

Why was that? Why does anger linger sometimes and is gone in the blink of an eye at other times?

Abraham Lincoln, who was known for his sense of humor and for his struggle with depression, wrote, “Most folks are as happy as they make their minds up to be.”

Lincoln believed that happiness depended entirely upon a person’s attitude – something that most of us are entirely in control of.

Lincoln, who led our country through the horrors of the Civil War and grieved deeply over deaths of his young sons, believed that his happiness was up to him . . . and that each of us can call the shots concerning our own happiness.

I’ve often heard it said that happiness is fleeting . . . that it comes and goes for most people . . . and that it’s rarely a permanent state of mind. That’s certainly been true in my case. I’m grateful that my happiness, when I lose it, can be recovered because there are times when it has seemed that anger, sadness and pain might have no end.

I’ve been thinking about the nature of happiness this past week as I watched the news reports of the anger, frustration, and violence that have erupted in Baltimore.

Black communities are sick and tired of being marginalized. They’re sick and tired of getting the worst public schools, of living in the most blighted neighborhoods, of seeing economic opportunity pass them by, and of being subjected to excessive scrutiny and brutality by law enforcement.

Black men, women and children and their allies are sick and tired. They’re not happy. They want something better. What will it be? Will an attitude adjustment be enough? And, exactly, whose attitudes need adjusting?

Like Paul, I think it’s important to have regular spiritual practices that help us cultivate the regular re-appearance of happiness – like his routine of keeping a gratitude journal. These spiritual practices can provide us with a sorely-needed reality check about what’s most important in life. They can soothe our spirits and get us emotionally back on track.

But is an attitude adjustment fostered by spiritual practices enough? What about the systemic issues of classism and racism – societal ills that not only steal happiness away from those caught in its tangled web, but also destroy their hope and sense of dignity?

It doesn’t seem fair to expect that persons living with oppression find their own way out of their misery without any support. To tell someone who is living in a neighborhood that run-down and beaten up . . . a neighborhood that has schools whose children live regularly with violence and come to class regularly hungry . . . a neighborhood that offers little decent housing, and no viable employment opportunities . . . to tell a person living in a neighborhood like that just to “make up your mind to be happy” is neglectful and cruel.

Don’t we have a responsibility to help each person start their pursuit of happiness with a level playing field? An attitude adjustment sounds nice, but extremely challenging given these conditions.

That’s why I think that happiness is both an individual pursuit and a community concern. The pursuit of happiness calls for simple and consistent personal practices that keep our spirits fit and ready for the challenges in life that are bound to come our way. It also calls for us to do something to change the dearth of opportunities that can be found in our country’s black communities.

While we can’t make up another’s person’s mind about being happy, we can and should do something to help those who are struggling.

In Baltimore, Ferguson, and elsewhere, we can commit our time, money, creative thinking, and other resources in a way that says we truly value the well-being of each person. By helping end classism and racism, we can help create the conditions where each of us has the best possible shot at experiencing happiness.

As some of you know, I was in Washington, DC earlier this week to join other clergy and activists on the steps of the Supreme Court. We were there to make our voices heard that it’s time that marriage equality be the law of the land.

There were thousands of happy people out that day . . . singing, chanting and hopeful that change is on the horizon for same-sex couples who want the rights and public affirmation that come with legal matrimony. There were many angry people on the steps of the courthouse, too. They were angry and shouting . . . fearful that the moral fabric of our society was on the verge of being shredded into bits.

Some of the happy people and some of the angry people stood right next to one another. A few shouted back and forth, and I watched as they took turns being happy and being angry.

Tuesday was a happy day for me . . . and I know that my happiness that day was precariously – if understandably – fueled by the outpouring of support I felt.

And, I also feel certain that if the Supreme Court ruling doesn’t go the way I hope, my happiness will be evaporate for some period of time. For how long will be up to me . . . which is why, even as I believe there are things that need to happen on the outside to promote the conditions for personal happiness, happiness also remains an inside job.

In her book A Short Guide to a Happy Life, New York Times columnist Anna Quindlen reinforces Lincoln’s notion that personal happiness is up to the individual. She came to this conclusion following the loss of her mother to ovarian cancer.Her mother was 40 when she died; Quindlen was 19.

She writes:

You are the only person alive who has sole custody of your life. Not just your life at a desk, or your life on the bus, or in the car, or at the computer. Not just the life of your mind, but the life of your heart. Not just your bank account, but your soul . . .

So, I suppose the best piece of advice I could give anyone is pretty simple: get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, the bigger paycheck, the larger house.

Do you think you’d care so very much about those things if you developed an aneurysm one afternoon, or found a lump in your breast while in the shower?[ref]Anna Quindlen, A Short Guide to a Happy Life (Random House, New York, NY: 2000), 10, 16.[/ref]

Quindlen suggests that a real life is one in which you notice the sights and smells all around you. One in which you are willing to be still and present from time to time.

A real life, she says, is one in which you’re not alone – where you find people you love and who love you in return . . . and that you’re willing to work at it. A real life is one in which you realize that all life is glorious and that you have no business taking it for granted.

Quindlen doesn’t say that I have to be in the right frame of mind to do any of these things . . . only that I do them. The more I engage in acts that cultivate appreciation for my life, the more life will teach me about being happy. These lessons on happiness, says Quindlen, can come from anyone and from anywhere.

She writes:

I found one of my best teachers on the boardwalk at Coney Island many years ago. It was December, and I was doing a story about how the homeless suffer in the winter months.

He and I sat on the edge of the wooden supports, dangling our feet over the side . . . He told me about his schedule, panhandling, the boulevard when the summer crowds were gone, sleeping in a church when the temperature went below freezing, hiding from the police amid the Tilt-A-Whirl and the Cyclone and some of the other seasonal rides.

But he told me that most of time he stayed on the boardwalk, facing the water, just the way we were sitting now. Even when it got cold and he had to wear his newspapers after he read them.

And I asked him why. Why didn’t he go to one of the shelters? Why didn’t he check himself into the hospital for detox?

And he stared out at the ocean and said, “Look at the view, young lady. Look at the view.”[ref]Ibid, 46 -50.[/ref]

When the driver in the shiny silver car cussed me out, I did lose sight of the view for a moment. I responded with a five-second, under-my-breath, private curse of my own. He wasn’t happy and neither was I. Perhaps a more spiritually mature me wouldn’t have had an angry reaction at all, but in that moment, my spiritual maturity left me.

And, yet, something inside me found it hard not to notice how gorgeous it was outside. And, so, it wasn’t long before I was able to let go of my anger and take in the view. Later, after I got home and reflected on my encounter, I actually found myself sympathizing with the angry driver. Geez, what was I doing, nearly pulling out in front of him like that? While I didn’t like his violent reaction, I could appreciate where it was coming from. I had scared him.

By the afternoon, I was hoping that the man in the shiny silver car was eventually able to take in the view, too.

It was easy enough to recapture my happiness. I imagine each of us has our bounce-back moments. But life doesn’t stay the same, and neither will our feelings. And, so my wish for all of us is that, like Paul, we will keep ourselves in fit spiritual condition so that we’re better able to handle life’s downturns. We need those daily and weekly practices that will put us back in touch with just how lucky we are to be alive.

Before she passed away last year from cancer, my spiritual mentor Marilyn used send me an e-mail me each day listing the five things she felt most grateful for.

I enjoyed reading the simple and silly things she came up with . . . such as warm socks on her feet, straight from the dryer; a glass of pink lemonade that made her mouth pucker; or the regular appearance of a cardinal on her back porch.

As Marilyn’s cancer progressed, her list became simpler and her attitude seemed more serene. She expressed gratitude for things like the morning light, for afternoon naps, for her husband’s humor, or for a call from a friend. I know that these experiences brought her fleeting moments of happiness, and I believe they helped her make peace with the fact that her life was coming to an end.

As we go from here, let’s heed Anna Quindlen’s words that the path to a happy life is to get a life – one that encourages our sense of gratitude and keeps us focused on the simple beauty and astounding miracles in the here and now.

And, let’s remember that the path to happiness can be blocked by more than one’s attitude. There are systems of oppression that we must help dismantle so that suffering and injustice will end and we will ALL be better able to take in the view.

Let’s make it so. Amen.

(image credit: “Los Angeles – Santa Monica: Abraham Lincoln mural” by Flickr user Wally Gobetz)