“The art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things.”
So said Henry Ward Beecher in 19th-century New England.
My children have schooled me in embracing common things.
Like yesterday. I was thoroughly pleased when Dutch retrieved my iPhone charging cable that Jack had crammed through the vent louvres, directly into the furnace. Dutch extracted the cable so I could again charge my frigging phone, and I extracted joy from this.
I like that preacher Beecher didn’t say “find” happiness, but rather “extract” it. As with pliers and a firm grip.
There are other common things that make me happy. Behold:
*Latching the doors in the evening at bedtime. We are shut up tight and I no longer must chase my errant kinder around the neighborhood while retrieving all the gardening tools, rakes, and snow shovels from the island in the cul-de-sac.
*Reading books about people time-traveling to 18th century Scotland. So it’s not Shakespeare, I know. Let’s pause while I slow clap for any geniuses who want to point that out to me. A little literary escapism trumps mental breakdown. Deal with it.
*When my clean bathroom smells like oranges and lemons for an hour or two between kid-bathing and the Code Brown. It’s fleeting, but so nice.
*Dried mango strips. Yes!
*Purging closets; dropping off bags of donations at DI. I extract obscene amounts of pleasure from the getting rid of the stuff. Have you ever wondered if maybe heaven is heaven because there we are unencumbered by things? Clearly, I have.
*Overcast summer days. And school’s imminent approach.