This morning I ordered twelve copies of my happiness workbook from Amazon. They’ll be delivered Saturday, just in time for my workshop on Monday. Wonderful! One less thing to worry about.
Except that almost immediately, I found myself wondering whether the books would actually arrive on Saturday. I’d solved one problem, and my mind had already moved on to the next one. It seems there’s always something waiting to take the place of the last concern.
I began thinking about this during meditation, and then I remembered something that happened during softball yesterday.
For years, I’ve played with a certain amount of anxiety. Will I catch the ball? Will I miss it? Will I hit well? The fear of making mistakes has been part of the experience. Lately, that fear has diminished, and I’ve been enjoying the game without so much concern about how I’ll perform.
But something unexpected happened. I noticed that the excitement of playing seemed to diminish, too. I was standing in the outfield, wondering whether my fear had somehow been fueling my interest in the game. Maybe the anticipation, the tension, and the adrenaline had become so connected with fear that I couldn’t distinguish one from the other.
What if the energy I experienced as fear wasn’t necessarily fear at all? What if it was simply the body’s response to something important happening, while my mind supplied the interpretation?
I began to wonder whether I could experience that same energy without the worry about making a mistake. Could I enjoy the anticipation, the competition, and the connection with my teammates without needing the fear to make the game exciting?
And then I came back to happiness.
Perhaps I’ve been looking at happiness in much the same way I’ve approached softball. I think something has to happen before I can be happy. I have to perform well, solve a problem, finish a project, or get something done. And when I accomplish one thing, my mind finds the next thing that needs attention.
But what happens to the happiness of the moment while I’m busy chasing the next one?
This is where I see the value of Sketch Stretching. By slowing down enough to notice my thoughts, feelings, and bodily sensations, I may discover that my experience is different from the story I’m telling myself about it.
Perhaps the same energy that once felt like fear can become excitement when I no longer interpret it as a threat. I don’t have to change the energy itself. I can change my relationship to it.
The world doesn’t have to change for my experience of it to change.
Happiness isn’t something I must chase down the road. Sometimes it becomes available when I stop letting the mind’s next concern determine where my attention goes.
The books may arrive Saturday. I may catch the ball or miss it. There will always be another thing to do, another uncertainty, another thought waiting to pull me away.
But life isn’t waiting for me to finish everything before it begins.
It’s happening now. And perhaps happiness is less about getting somewhere else than about being here to experience it.
