Living Happiness

I was on the treadmill, busting into my second half-hour of cardio the other day when it came on, the familiar DUNT. Dunt-dunt-dunt. Dunt-dunt-dunt. Dunt-dunt-DUNNNNNH, with the helicopter-like electric guitar thrumming as an undercurrent in the background.

Risin’ up, back on the street,
Did my time, took my chances

Aw, yeah.  Nothing like a bit of Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” to get me going.

“Eye of the Tiger” is a very popular song here at the gyms in Greece.  You can’t show up at one (any one) of them and not be serenaded by “Tiger” at least once during your weight training circuit.  But I must shamelessly admit that, on this particular day, this particular rendition came to me courtesy of my iPod and not the speakers at Planet Fitness.  Yes, my name is Chania Girl, and far too many of my workout tunes are songs that last reached their peak in the ’80s.  A little Poison, anyone?  Def Leppard?  I know.  It’s sad really.

But I love “Eye of the Tiger.”  It’s catchy, it’s edgy, it’s nostalgic. And it also has these great lines (in my humble opinion, anyway) which get me every time:

So many times, it happens too fast.
You trade your passion for glory.

So true.  I’ve had far too many moments lately where this has definitely been the case.  Trading passion for glory.  Going after the glitz and glamour … and forgetting all about the joy of simply doing what I love.  Wanting the reward with the least amount of effort.  And all this got me thinking.

As a lot of you know, I’m a word-lover, a philologos in the truest sense of the word, and words and meaning are everything to me: nuance, history, art, and mystery.  They thrill me to my very core.

So when I got home, I began doing some digging into the treasure trove of language (thesaurus, by the way, comes from the Greek word for treasure) and discovered these things about passion and glory that I would like to share with you.

First, you can’t have passion without patience.  And you can’t have either one without suffering.  Really.  It’s true.  Look these words up for yourself and you will find that the very root of both passion and patience is the same: the Latin word pati which literally means to undergo, to endure, to suffer.

But when was the last time we heard anything like this?  “Live your passion.”  “Be your passion,” we are admonished on an almost-daily basis (especially if you watch Oprah like I do).  But how many people are also saying, “Oh, and by the way, in doing so, be prepared to suffer”?  Maybe some.  Okay, maybe a few.  But the message might be more clear if what we heard was the literal translation:

“Live your suffering. Be your suffering.”

You see, there can be no prize, there can be no glory, without passion.  And there can be no passion without patience, without suffering … even though we’d really like for this not to be true.

Ask any person who has achieved something worthwhile, who has truly “lived” his/her passion and they will tell you that the road to glory is a long one and that it is fraught with obstacles and perils and battles to what feel like the death.

For most people, glory doesn’t come quickly or easily.  It comes behind a lot of blood, sweat and tears, the result of patience (again) that carries implicit within its meaning the idea of suffering.  You’ve all seen Rocky; you know what I’m talking about:  You have to go through the fight to get to the prize. You have to withstand life’s punches to be granted any praise.

And herein lies my second big discovery of the day: praise and prize are both related to the word price.  In fact, it was only during the 14th century that the three words (praise, prize, and price) began to diverge from one another to become the separate cognates we have today.  And what is price?

Price is the cost of something.  And cost?  Ah, again, the muse of language stepped in and answered: Cost is standing, not moving, remaining firm.

Cost, ironically, is the word closest in meaning to our word “patience” today.  Cost is planting your feet and standing your ground, instead of running when things get tough.

When troubles come your way, when agonies force themselves upon you, you bear the cost by standing firm.  Your bearing the cost, your willingness to stand, is your making a conscious decision not to flee.  It is your choosing to plant your feet in the path of destiny and say, “I’m not moving.” And it is this stance that helps you receive the blows life deals you … and deliver your own punches right back as you fight to keep your dream alive.

This, therefore, is the suffering that becomes known as patience.  And it is this patience that births one’s passion, a passion which, if fought for, becomes one’s prize: that hard-earned trophy that represents the cost of all you’ve stood for.

If you are daunted today by the task in front of you.   If you want to live your passion but feel beset by obstacles, know that this is not an aberration of nature.   Obstacles are built into the heart of passion itself.  But don’t let this deter you from going after your dream.  The prize at the end will be well worth the effort, for that reward will carry within it all of the suffering you may have endured.  And isn’t this worth more than a free trophy any day?

Please share your thoughts today.

What has living your passion meant for you?

What obstacles have you faced on the road to your dream?

What dreams do you have that are worth fighting for?

All of your comments are welcome.

Strength and grace to you today,

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It has been almost one year since G and I packed up our little flat and moved into our current home … and almost one year since I boarded a ferry and then (three) planes that would take me across an ocean and back to the States for the first time in three years. To say last summer was difficult is an understatement.

In this year, G and I have experienced some big changes, most noticeably in the change in our relationship from fiancé and fiancée to husband and wife. We have made a new home, made new friends, learned new languages (me), found new jobs. All for our good, all for the better, not always easy.

As with any journey in which there are hardships to be endured, all of us have the chance to become stronger or the chance to fall and give up. If we choose to become stronger, the Universe will see to it that these hardships become our lessons.

Here are some just a few of the lessons I’ve learned this past year.

1. Sometimes you can go home again.
My biggest fear in returning to the States was that I wouldn’t be able to return home, but this turned out not to be true. Though it took me a while to find my way back to my home, when I finally did it was the best five weeks of my summer. When you go somewhere that love is unconditional, it doesn’t matter how much externals change, you will always be able to be you … and you will always be loved. To me, that is the very definition of home.

2. The heart may have more than one home.
It may have two … or three. Just as my heart rejoiced when it found its way back to my parents’ house, it also rejoiced when it found itself on Greek soil again. Words cannot describe to you the joy I felt on that first cab ride from Venizelos airport back into central Athens. My heart caught in my throat as I saw the Parthenon on the hill, my soul quieted down and sighed a big “aaaaah.” If I could have hugged the whole of Athens in one embrace I would have done it. And then there was my return to my love, G. I will never forget the morning, 5:30 a.m., just off the ferry, standing at the taxi rank in the purple dawn light, waiting for my first glimpse of him. And when I saw him … ? That day, my first day home, was truly one of the best days of my life.

3. It’s not always all about you.
There is a tendency in our modern, globalized world to focus on the individual, on independence, self-reliance, autonomy, ourselves. But in doing so we can sometimes forget that, even so, we still live in relation every day to ourselves and the world around us. We are not the only ones who are affected by events and circumstances. We are not the only ones who deserve a fair break or our piece of the pie. Sometimes the best thing we can do is get out of the way and let “it” be about someone else for a change. Let them have the break. Let them have the pie. The lessons of last summer taught me this, above all.

4. Sometimes not asking for forgiveness is the only thing that’s holding you back from receiving it. ASK.
One of the things I learned when I finally “stepped out of the way” is that I had inadvertently caused a lot of hurt and anguish in recent months to those around me, too caught up in myself to see it. So when I finally did “see” it, I was heartbroken and wanted to make things right. What I discovered is that most people quickly and gladly forgive. But I may not have received this gift had I not asked. This gift was the gift of grace.

5. Where there is no road, you have the opportunity to make one.
As a stranger in a strange land, the course you take is not always one set out for you. There are detours and byways and full-out turnabouts you have to endure before you get where you’re going. This is nowhere more apparent than in one’s job. This year I repeatedly went down one certain vocational road only to always find myself at a dead end. And then one day I realized, “Hey, there’s a destination up there I want to get to … and this way isn’t working.” I started “building a new road,” and now there is a way where once there was none.

6. Simple and easy are not the same.
If they were, far more of us would be happy, healthy, wealthy, and wise. But the roads to these places, though perhaps simple, are not easy. We are allowed to choose every day which path we want to take: the path of ease … or the path of simplicity.

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