My last blog followed on the heels of my uncle’s death and was uncharacteristically depressing for me. Usually I see the glass half full, but indeed there are times in life when it would be almost foolish not to allow oneself to stay in the quiet sadness of loss, and that's what I did when he died.

Not that grief has a clear timeframe, but two months have gone by, and I finally have stopped crying about the loss of my uncle. I have returned my focus to my very satisfying world. I do still “talk” to my uncle and think of him at many turns, because to me that is what love is, carrying a connection to loved ones even when they are gone. But I have moved on emotionally as best I can.

When my sister noticed my depressing blog yesterday, she suggested the importance of thinking positive thoughts and looking, basically, for the sunshine in one’s life. She is older and therefore much wiser (and also a firstborn, so she carries less emotion and introspection in her personality than I), and she is absolutely on target. That is a good premise, to think positive thoughts that lead to happiness and contentment.

But it got me thinking, and talking with her further, about “the sunshine,” or, what happiness actually is. I babbled at her online, as I tend to do, about the importance of finding one’s identity, passion, people to love and be loved by, and trying to make a difference in this world. She wrote back specifying the actual things and people and moments in her life that define “happiness” for her. Our lists, while expressed differently, were similar. Among other things, we both included family, and of course chocolate.

My sister also asked our nearly 80-year-old mother what happiness is to her, and although our mother has lived a remarkably full and satisfying life—not without some pain—she replied, simply, “I have no idea.”

I know we three are mere pebbles in the huge rock garden of life, and that trillions of people have pondered the question of happiness, but our family dialogue encouraged me to think more about this question late into last night. I thought about things that made me happy in the prior days, besides the usual ones we sometimes take for granted, like waking up, healthy, next to my husband, also healthy.

Was that happiness I felt earlier this week when my 17-year-old daughter’s college acceptance arrived in the mail in an enveloped marked “congratulations,” and I raced off to her job to present her the envelope and a long-stem pink rose (from a dozen roses hubby had bought that morning, which made me happy!)? Or was it pride in the enormous accomplishments she has achieved growing into a lovely young woman?

Was that happiness I felt early Sunday morning when a 14-year-old student of mine invited me to her house to help with her private high school application essays, and her e-mail said, “I’ll be in PJs so wear yours,” and I actually did! Or was that joy at a momentary opportunity to regress a tad?

Was it happiness I felt yesterday when I went to meet my neighbor's new golden retriever pup, and the wiggling ball of golden fur threw his entire body against mine and lapped wet kisses on the side of my face while his older sister licked the other side of my face? Or was that pure bliss over the healing powers of animals? (Non-dog people reading this are totally grossed out, I know!)

Was it happiness I felt on the treadmill at Summit Health + Fitness today with my music blasting and my heart pumping, or was that exhilaration and endorphins kicking in?

Am I just being too much of a wordsmith, and happiness encompasses all of these other emotions? Or, am I mixing up a simple concept and turning it into a dissertation on the wide range of feelings we all have, but onto which we can’t always place a label unless we’ve been gifted in childhood to have someone help us understand and experience our full range of human feelings?

Without boring readers with any more of the strange and mundane things that make me happy—in addition to the big things like family, friends, and passions—I think I have concluded that happiness simply cannot be defined. My mother was not intending to be difficult, sarcastic or apathetic, it was just her knee-jerk reaction to my sister’s question, because, apparently, it is not so simple to communicate something so powerful as “happiness.” Each of us needs to define happiness in our own ways. The big things, the little things, and maybe just waking up every day is a good start.

One giant issue that affects happiness is health; but even in ailing health, can’t we choose to focus more on the “haves” than the “have nots” in our lives, and still notice the loved ones around us, if we are so lucky to have formed a circle of love? Can't we still try to notice the flowers or even the beautiful snow-covered evergreens this crazy winter? And enjoy the gift of the present as best we can? I have a dear friend now suffering with ill health, and I can just about guarantee she is still finding ways to smell the roses; she is my heroine.

So, after all of this analysis, in a nutshell, my straight-shooting, straight-forward sister is probably right: staying positive in the face of life’s travails is the pathway to happiness.

And all the little innuendos of other feelings—pleasure, joy, excitement, pride—are byproducts of happiness, or vice versa.

For what it’s worth, I will present a slightly broader definition: Happiness is defining what and whom you love, then pursuing them in a positive manner; and even if you can't achieve them all (which of course we can’t), enjoying the ride along the way!

So what do YOU think, readers?

Send me your thoughts on happiness and I’ll post a few.

January 19, 2008:
Posted by K.S., Wilmington, MA

Happiness has a lot to do with acceptance, living in the moment but in a purposeful, thoughtful way--not mindlessly gorging oneself on all the fun stuff one can find, eat, do. It's more of a peaceful contentment that one feels, of being connected in good ways to others, in touch with one's own self, thinking of the future, but really there is no future, only now. Happiness has nothing to do with where one is, or with one's relationships, it is the ability to be joyful inside no matter the outside. It is not a forced thing; to get to that point one has to have the proper intentions and actions all along the way. It is just a feeling of peace, contentment, like climbing to the top of a ladder and when you get to the top it's a great feeling of accomplishment because you know you got there by putting your hands and feet in all the right places--and thought about it as you were doing it. Ah, here I am, and it feels good! So I guess happiness is a state of being that keeps coming back, inside, even if circumstances in life keep us going up and down that ladder!

A dark dreary Monday, November 26, 2007

I've never blogged before. Technically. But you might say I was born blogging, because as long as I--and my soon-to-be 80-year-old mother--can remember, I was writing diary entries, staying up late at night to work on short stories or other creative projects, and taking it upon myself to solve the problems of each of my friends, writing paper notes that we folded into little tiny triangles, and passing them in the hallways of the junior high (middle school is a more modern name--I'm dating myself here). By the time the notes got back to me--passed from friend to friend--they were barely paper any more; more like soft pulp with disintegrating ink or smudged pencil marks.

My best friend signed my high school yearbook in 1973, the year we graduated from Lexington (Mass.) High School, saying (and I'm embarrassed to say I am quoting this accurately, because my yearbook is right here on my shelf--what does this say about ME?) "Min you always say to me, 'why me, why do they come to me with their problems?' I'll tell you, Min, they come because you tell what you feel and you listen and you make them feel better by just being there." Well, I'm not sure that message should have any clout, because that best friend and I had a bitter fight one year later and she stopped speaking to me--I never quite knew what I did except the royal sin of fixing up her ex-boyfriend (my good friend) with another good friend of mine. Oops. I guess that was the ixnay overnay of teenage friendships, or as they say today "My bad;" but maybe even back then I was an old soul, and I just wanted to see people happy, so if those two couldn't be together, I figured, why not fix him up with someone else?

Anyway, all this leads toward why I am adding a blog to my website that I always tell my wonderful webmistress is really only visited by one person, my uncle, and now he is dead. So that is exactly why I am adding the blog. For him. He died just three weeks ago, suddenly, a tumble down the stairs that we hope took him in a nanosecond, with no pain, and I am finding that the world looks very different to me now. My somewhat easy, carefree, let's-have-fun-and-try-to-make-a-difference world has gotten narrower; now all I think about is how much longer any of us really have anyway. My mother turns 80 next year and has been frailer the past year; my 81-year-old father seems to have renewed his batteries, however, and thankfully is still going strong. My daughter leaves for college next year and although I have 10 more months here with her, I am already focused on my empty nest, yet another symbol of my being a few steps closer to the end of the run they call life. I'm in great health, but this stupid tennis elbow aches and makes me feel old before my time. What is my time though anyway....my best friend died at the knife of her ex-boyfriend in 1978, at the age of 23. My grandmother made it to 92. My husband looks younger than ever 20 pounds lighter and a biking maniac at 56. Do we really want to know what time it is anyway?

So, okay, I am done blogging. It has taken me to a dark place, and that better not be what blogging does for me all the time, or I will not like blogging. I am not usually a dark person.

I don't have a place for anyone to post to my blog, because in old age I've become a control freak and don't want to see this website become the place everyone in 5000 nations goes to late at night when they can't sleep and want to spout profound nonsense, as I am doing now. But if you write to me, I'll consider adding it on, especially if it is in English, as I do not know many other languages, narrow American that I am, except a few words of Swahilli, a couple of Portuguese, and enough to buy dinner in France. But I'm gonna screen your messages; who knows if you are from Lexington High School still trying to dump your problems on me 35 years later. Back then, I liked that; today I've got my own heavy-hearted, dark winter woes to sort out. But get back to me when the sun shines in a few months, and when my daughter's college acceptances are in; maybe then I'll be back to focusing more on having a good time and making a difference in this world where I can. And blogging more optimistically.

November 27, 2007:
Posted by D.C., Sudbury, MA

Look out the window every time you get up in the morning, like I do, and make sure you are on the right side of the grass. If so, you have another day of sunshine and passion, regardless of what the weather really is...........

November 28, 2007
Posted by L.M., Plymouth, MA

Watching parents age, relatives and even friends die is a wake up call to us to "live each day" as best we can. I turned 75 on Monday. I can hardly say it let alone believe it. Three quarters of a century!!!! My mother died when she was 72 (I was 44.) My dad died when he was 81. (I was 52.) My brother died five years ago at 73. And my dearest cousin died three years ago. She was 73. Whenever I say to my husband that I am afraid to
die, he answers: "Aren't you glad you were born?" Of course I am. And you know I have a lot to be thankful for. And I am. Do I think about my mortality? I do. Maybe too much. Does a dip in my energy level make me angry? Yes it does. In my mind, I am not 75. Most days I don't feel 75 . That's good.