Tilting Towards Happiness

Fill this out. If you already have, try it again. It's like Mad Libs as Jennifer said, and who doesn't like Mad Libs? In each of the spaces fill in the feeling/idea you associated with the age range (and if you haven't gotten to the age range yet, write what you anticipate will go in the box for you).

We start _________ (11-14), but soon fill up with _________ (15-18), and feelings of

_________ (19-22) until we leave those behind to go _________ (23-26), before gradually

trading ambition for _________ (27-30), developing an appreciation for our _________

(31-35) and our _________ (31-35), and evolving a sense of _________ (36-40), for

which we feel _________ (36-40), then _________ (41-49), _________ (41-49), and

finally _________ (50+).

In the spirit of sharing, these are my answers separated by slashes in a weak attempt to disguise them (awkward/more awkward + insecure/tentative hope/test my dreams/a sense of self/husbands + kids/parents/satisfaction + maternal-ness/grateful/proud/fulfilled/truly happy).

One of the things I am still thinking about after this morning is that while we often let ourselves believe that we are either happy or we aren't, that happiness is stumbled upon by chance and not created - this is not necessarily true. Happiness can very much be something we are able to influence. I can't articulate this as clearly as Jennifer, but here are a few nuggets I walked away with:

Being very conscious about how we spend our time, with whom we spend our time, can have a big impact on our happiness.

It is useful to anticipate that we will face an evolving definition of happiness. If we do this, we can tilt our careers, decisions and family around this changing definition.

If you know down deep what it is that is important for you to do. In your life, in your career. You need to figure out how to go out there and do it.

In your life, if you see a crack in the door, go through it.

Create sticky memories.

Jennifer shared a sticky memory of hers with us, so I will share one with you:

When I was a kid my mom would sometimes tell my best friend Fiona and me stories about the "great abominable snowman". My mom only told these stories in the summer time and only late at night when it was past our bedtime. We had to beg and plead for her to tell them to us, and when she finally relented, we were hit with a great tidal wave of excitement and would jump up and down and squeal with delight. We would sit outside on the back porch with mugs of hot chocolate stuffed with marshmallows and big, soft, completely worn down cotton blankets. We would snuggle up on either side of my mom because we were both too scared to be anywhere else. We knew the story line by heart, "Two young girls named Nicole and Fiona went hiking in the Himilayas when they started to notice suspicious things...", but we would nonetheless get goosebumps and scream and let ourselves be thrilled by the story every time.