"No," Arthur insisted, "don't you understand, this is the first time I've actually stood on the surface of another planet . . . a whole alien world . . . ! Pity it's such a dump though."
Yes, I'm stopping at one paragraph tonight, because Arthur pretty much sums up what I want to talk about tonight.
I'm sure you've all had a parent tell you to "change your attitude" and "be happy with what you have." I heard it a lot as a kid. I have said it to my children more times than I can count. I don't make a whole lot of money with my jobs. My wife works part-time at the local OfficeMax. We haven't moved since we started our family. We currently live in a three-bedroom (formerly two-bedroom)/one bathroom household. Our house is what kind people and realtors would call "cozy." Other (perhaps more realistic) people would call it "small" or "cramped."
There have been many days when I've dreamed of a bigger home--a place with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big kitchen with an island, and a bathroom that doesn't contain our washing machine. Maybe even a library/writing room. I'm human. I easily give into envy and slide into the hole of self-pity. However, I also know that I will never experience joy by focusing on what doesn't exist in my life.
It's all about attitude. Being grateful for my blessings. In order to lead a truly happy life, Archbishop Desmond Tutu says you must "be a reservoir of joy, an oasis of peace, a pool of serenity that can ripple out to all those around you." In order to be this, I need to look at the books on my shelves, the clothes in my closet, my beautiful wife and daughter, my funny son, and be at peace. Know that 99% of the people in the world don't have as much as I have. In comparison, I'm wealthy.
It's all about attitude. Sure, I've been dealing with struggles these last few months. Tutu and the Dalai Lama claim that "the way to heal our own pain is actually by turning to the pain of others." So, we must not only be an oasis of peace and joy for other people, we must also be a reservoir of compassion and spiritual generosity, as well. That's why, when facing national or international tragedies (things that seem to have nothing to do with our day-to-day lives), we come together, collect money, donate blood, gather food and clothing.
Human beings are social animals, and we do not thrive in isolation. Joy is multiplied by sharing it with more people, and pain is diminished when people come together in grief and loss and struggle. That's how things work in the universe.
Tonight, I feel like being alone. Wallowing in isolation. However, I haven't done that. I'm sitting in my parents' living room with my mother and two of my sisters. We had dinner together. We've talked about our daily irritations, shared moments of laughter. By doing this, I have made my night not all about me. It's about my mom's dementia. My sister's Alzheimer's. It's about the tortellini I ate a little while ago. The garlic bread I'm taking home for my wife and son.
Cultivating an attitude of joy is about being connected--not through text messages or Facebook posts. That's not real joy. That's outsiders trying to convince the world how wonderful their lives are. It's false joy, based on other people's envy.
My happiest moment of the last two days--taking my son to get ice cream last night. He had birthday cake ice cream. I had an M&M flurry. He didn't have his Nintendo with him. I left my phone in the car. We just had each other. And, without recording it on Facebook as proof, we were happy.
Saint Marty needs more ice cream moments like that in his life.
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