Living Happiness

Yesterday morning dawned a bright warm day here in Crete, and I set off on my own little mini-adventure. I was ready. I was set. All I needed was to go.

For weeks I’d been eyeing a well-worn path that runs up a hillside and out of sight. G and I pass by it every time we drive down into town. It winds up the side of the hill and (surely, in my mind) winds back down again the other side. Which is exactly what I wanted to confirm when I set off yesterday morning. I was excited and armed with water, my towel, my journal and a pen. Woohoo! Here we go.

I had worked out in my mind that after following the path up and round this hill, I would find myself in this gloriously peaceful clearing with sheep and goats grazing, olive trees olive-ing, and mountains gleaming off in the distance. It would be my own personal Sound of Music gone Cretan! I might even sing!

Instead, I found myself at the top of the hill, sallying forth into a glade of beehives with not a sheep or goat in sight. Thankfully, I had the wherewithal to recognize all the gazillion humming boxes for what they were a good few yards before I actually walked right smack into them. But this definitely meant that my primo, number one choice of seating location was out of the question … unless I wanted to suddenly go native and try to discover any natural abilities I may have as a beekeeper. There were no olive trees either, by the way. The only part of this fantasy that came true was the mountains really, and they weren’t exactly gleaming, as a big cloud bank had swarmed up from the south and west and covered most of the tops of them … and the bottoms were disguised in a filmy haze. The most assurance I had that they were actually there was the fact that I’d seen them there the day before … and every other day since I’ve moved to Crete.

Not to be deterred, however, I simply trailed down one of the little side paths that others had obviously worn before me, hoping perhaps that one of these led to a little spot of Zen. The first trail, though, led to a steep drop that forced me to turn back around and walk back UPHILL the way I had come. The next little trail, likewise, led into a full on army of ants who had commandeered the path and were busy hiking themselves up and down it in full vigor. Can I also just mention that these ants were HUGE?! So again, back up the path I went and found a little rock stool that apparently someone had created there for just such an occasion as this. “Finally!” I thought and got ready to get down to the business of being still.

I had been at this stillness for about ten seconds, though, when I heard it: the unmistakeable sounds of a jackhammer … or many … emanating from somewhere below. Then it stopped. “Ah,” I thought, “peace and quiet, at last.” And then jumped when the jackhammer started jackhammering again. Which it did. In approximately seven-second intervals for the next fifteen minutes that I sat there.

“I can’t believe this,” I inwardly grumbled. “I come all the way up here for peace and quiet and this is what I get.” And I spent another five minutes trying to figure out where that jackhammering sound had been in the thirty-five other minutes it had taken for me to walk from my house to here because, I swear it’s true, I hadn’t heard it!

Finally, with curiosity disappointingly sated and with nerves undeniably jangled, I took back up my water, towel, journal, and pen and made my way back home … where it was blissfully quiet.

So why do I tell all this to you today? Because I learned a couple of lessons along the way that I thought you might like to hear.

1. It is in the silence that we can most hear the noise. The paradox of yesterday’s hillside experience for me is that I went seeking solitude and instead found more noise. And while on a physical and literal level there was nothing I could do to quiet the noise down, this is not the case when the silence we are seeking is of a more spiritual sort. Many of us in some way or another try to meditate or to have a few moments of quiet each day, but as anyone who has meditated for years will tell you, it’s precisely when you hunker down and get still that all the craziness in your mind and soul just erupts: a veritable cacophony of sound bursts forth in your head. And it’s up to you to tame those beasts. This phenomenon isn’t a bad thing. It alerts us to the noise we’ve surrounded ourselves with every day but been deaf to because of all of the other sounds around us. So the next time this happens to you. Don’t panic. Know that it’s normal. It’s one of the reasons why we meditate. And take heart that, at least in your case, you can get the jackhammering to stop.
2. The silence we seek is often found where we started. I left home yesterday looking for an illusory spot of Zen … and did not find it until I came back home. After setting my water, towel, journal, and pen down, I walked out onto the back patio and heard nothing but the sound of birds twittering and wind in the grass. It was peaceful and still. The same is true for us spiritually: the silence that we seek outside of ourselves must inevitably come from within.

Namaste and peace be with you,

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Photo Credit: Photo61Guy

“So, what is Greece like?” This is the question I am most often asked when I hear from friends and family back home after eons of separation, and my first thought is always, “How do I even begin to answer that question?” I sift through my brain for an honest reply that will answer the question succinctly but not seem dismissive. It is hard, but I am lucky, because I do have an answer ….

Three years ago, when I had been in Greece only a few months, I found myself hanging out with some Greek Americans who, for various reasons, had found themselves living not in their place of birth but back in the country of their forefathers and mothers. We were talking about this question, and the best answer I heard – and have yet to hear – was this, “Life in Greece is not easy but it is simple.” Simple. Not Easy. What does this mean?

It occurs to me that a lot of the things that keep my life simple here are my lack of things. I don’t have a car, a dishwasher, a microwave, a Tivo, a DVR, an iPhone, a Blackberry, or a digital planner. But I do have an abundance of a lot of other things: time, beautiful sunsets, nature all around me, good friends, good food. Sure, it would be nice to have some of the things I just mentioned that make used to make my life more convenient. But is more convenient always better? I’ve begun to have my doubts.

It dawned on me in the wee morning hours, as this post was swimming around in my brain, that sometimes it is what we lack that is the source of our abundance. So in today’s post, I thought I’d share with you a short list of some of the things I don’t have, followed by some suggestions for what you yourself might be able to do to eliminate “stuff.” It’ll be our little experiment in happiness and abundance making. Would you like to give it a go?

Four Things I Don’t Have That Make My Life More Abundant:

1. An iPhone, Blackberry, Palm Pilot, digital planner, or anything that remotely allows me to be remotely connected to anyone, at any time of the day, from any place in the world. I have a mobile phone only. I call people. I text people. They call me. They text me. When we want to meet up for a coffee, we do. Sometimes we don’t even have to arrange it in advance! *GASP* The nice thing about mobile phones, too? I can turn mine off. And I do!
2. Kitchen gadgets. I have no microwave, dishwasher, food processor, coffee pot, or mixer. I have instead the following: a stove, my own two hands, really sharp knives, a kettle, and wooden spoons, respectively. And I have discovered two BIG things in regard to these noticeable gadget absences. First, a lot of meals really can be cooked just as fast on the stove. I’m not kidding! It’s true! And second, these gadgets really aren’t necessary to make darn good food. If you don’t believe me, ask my husband, G, who goes on and on and on about my cakes and cupcakes … made with WOODEN SPOONS in a big glass bowl! A little elbow grease never hurt anybody. This also holds true with the whole washing dishes thing … which is saying a lot because I hate despise washing dishes.
3. HDTV, satellite, Tivo, DVR, or any other television-related item that allows me to watch five million channels and/or record five million shows. Instead I have Greek television, sprinkled with the occasional English language show or film. If I happen to miss it (the English language treat), I’m screwed. There is no recording it for future viewing (not that I would want to most of the time anyway. Steven Segal? Again?). So what do I do with all this time on my hands and nothing to watch on telly? Well, I read. Books. Real ones. With pages. And sometimes my husband does, too. And (drum roll please) sometimes we even read to each other!!! We also play games, like Texas Hold ‘Em for instance, to see who gets the household chores for the week. (Dishes are always up for grabs, by the way.) We go out for coffees. We putter in the garden. And, if all that fails, we talk. In a conversation. With words. Sometimes we even laugh.
4. 24-hour anything. When I was in the States, within the one-block radius of my house I had three 24-hour gas stations, two 24-hour supermarkets, two 24-hour pharmacies, a 24-hour Wendy’s, and a 24-hour photocopy place. It was convenient and easy. In the off chance that I needed a pint of Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream at 3:00 in the morning or an oil change at midnight, I could have them. Both maybe. Maybe even on the same night. I do not have this luxury in Greece, and believe me, it took me a while to get used to it. Here, everything closes on Saturday afternoon at 2:00 and doesn’t open again until Monday morning. And on two nights of the week – Monday and Wednesday – nothing is open either. Talk about not convenient! However, what this has meant is that G and I have learned to plan our shopping and prepare for our wants and needs in advance. What his has also meant is that Sunday finally has been restored to its rightful place in our lives as a day of rest. It is hard to get up and get moving when everything is closed down. The only places that are open are the cafes and restaurants, so you are practically forced to just be still … and have a good meal while you’re at it. The silence of Sunday permeates the city – no buses, no mopeds, no busy machines building, or hustle and bustle. Sunday has quickly become our favorite day of the week.

Four Ways That You Can Simplify:

1. Disconnect. Turn off your Blackberry, your iPhone. Leave the computer for a day. Refrain from tweeting. Forget about updating. Instead, call a friend (don’t text them) and go for a coffee, a meal, a chat. Do it without consulting your calendar. Do something spur of the moment. Be in the moment. Enjoy the present reality of what’s before you.
2. Go basic. Cook a meal from scratch, with fresh ingredients. Do as much as you can by hand. Feel flour and salt and butter between your fingers. Run your hands over a plate under hot running water. Listen to a kettle as it bobbles and whistles. Then savor what you’ve done.
3. Tune out. The hours you spend in front of the tube are wasted hours. They do not produce anything, and they do not activate your mind. Read a book. Play a game with your spouse, with your children. Go outside. Talk to one another. Laugh. Sing. Garden. Paint. Do whatever brings you joy. But whatever it is: entertain yourself. Don’t fall victim to letting something else entertain you: going to see a film is not entertaining yourself.
4. Stop. Set aside one day that you will not shop, work, do chores, or run errands. Even if this means that you have to place these tasks on other days leading up to (or after) this shabbas. This is what we (G and I) must do too. But it is worth it. You will give yourself a whole day of care-free, worry-free time. What will you do with that time? Well, it’s up to you. But for centuries, the idea of a Sabbath has been that it’s a day to rest and enjoy what your work has produced: sleep, nap, eat, drink, make love, laugh, read. Do nothing on this day out of obligation or guilt. Do whatever brings you joy.

I leave you today with these observations and with this challenge, I would love to hear from you on what you discover and what you think about the above.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Flickr photo credits in order of appearance: gogostevie, citywiderodeo, Cristian Montes, and hn..