“There is no way to happiness, happiness is the way.” -Thich Nhat Hanh

I am writing this from a plane, much like a post I wrote last week. I’ve come to believe some of life’s most joyful moments happen when we least expected they would.

Just now one of the flight attendants came onto the loud speaker to announce there’s someone with a birthday today. After many of us sang to a man we couldn’t see, one guy yelled “Stand up!” and another hollered, “Speech!” And then we all started giggling, somehow conveying a Boston accent without uttering a single “R.”

It was a silly little moment, and yet it seemed kind of special. It was one of those rare occasions when a bunch of people who don’t know each other come together in good will and laughter.

I think it’s also the departure from normal conduct that makes a moment like this so engaging.

In school, whenever everyone was sitting quietly, reading, I felt this compulsion to stand up and start singing. I felt the same thing when everyone was quiet on a bus. In retrospect, I don’t think I was fantasizing about being annoying or distracting.

I was imagining what it would be like to break the mold of expected behavior and do something impulsively joyful. I was visualizing what it would be like to bust out of my little box, in a world where I am separate from everyone else, and create a moment that compels everyone around me to get out of their heads and smile.

It’s obviously not advisable to belt our show tunes during jury duty or in line at the DMV, but maybe there’s something to this idea of creating spontaneous joy.

It doesn’t require us to do anything but be present and accessible to the people around us.

It’s saying hello to someone else on the subway instead of avoiding eye contact. It’s offering a compliment to someone in line at the bank, instead of staring at our feet. It’s making a joke in a doctor’s waiting room instead of rehashing everything that could go wrong in our heads.

We spend so much of our lives rushing past each other, dreaming or stressing about where we’re going, and dwelling on where we’ve come from.

Maybe happiness is really being where we are, and choosing to smile with the people around us.

Photo by pelican

“Enthusiasm is contagious. You can start an epidemic.” –Unknown

Do you ever downplay your passions and ambitions when someone asks you about your work?

Someone asked me if I do this a while back, and at first, I said that I don’t. To know me is to know Tiny Buddha—and to hear about it often.

I’ve recognized, however, that I can be somewhat reserved in describing what I do when I first someone new—especially if I meet them in a context that does not confirm they have an interest in personal development.

Of course, this means I’m making assumptions. Just because I meet someone at a wisdom conference that doesn’t guarantee they’re more interested in personal growth than someone I meet in a doctor’s office.

Still, it’s tempting to form this conclusion to avoid potential awkwardness, particularly because I write about topics that not everyone feels comfortable discussing.

This, I’ve found, is what sometimes causes me to water down my enthusiasm: I’m too concerned with how I assume someone might respond to open up and find out for myself.

Can you relate?

Have you ever assumed someone would be bored by your work without giving them the opportunity to decide for themselves? Have you ever imagined someone would find your aspirations silly instead of taking a chance and letting them in?

Or how about this: Have you ever held back when sharing your goals with someone who seems to be successful in their field in fear they won’t take you seriously because you’re not yet?

I suspect we do these things to maintain a sense of safety, whether it’s for ourselves or our dreams.

But we limit our potential to help and be helped, inspire and be inspired, when we minimize our interests and ambitions.

You never know when an enthusiastic exchange might lead to a life-changing conversation, introduction, or opportunity, for you or someone else.

We can all do a lot of good in this world we all share together, but we first we need to be willing to share the good we want to do.

Photo by {ind}yeah

“The grass is always greener where you water it.” –Unknown

The first time I heard the phrase “the grass is always greener on the other side,” I was 12 years old—and I heard it in song.

I didn’t know at the time that this was from the play Woman of the Year, because two women in my theater group sang it as part of a musical review. Still, it made a deep impression on me.

One of the characters is a housewife, and the other is a famous TV news personality—and yet they both feel certain they’re missing out on amazing experiences because of the lifestyle they’ve chosen.

The celebrity sings, “I can see you planning picnics. That’s wonderful!”

The housewife responds, “What’s so wonderful? Eating at the White House! That’s wonderful!”

And the song goes on like this, with two women comparing their lives, and assuming the other has it better.

Back then, I felt painfully envious of my sister, who frequently won starring roles and also had a boyfriend. It didn’t occur to me that focusing on everything she had wasn’t a proactive way to create the life I wanted.

Comparing my talent to hers didn’t help me land any roles. It just made me feel inadequate—which showed in my auditions. Comparing my looks to hers didn’t help me feel better about myself. It just made me feel unattractive—which showed in the way I carried myself.

I also didn’t realize her life wasn’t perfect, and she had plenty of her own challenges.

I’ve since learned that there is always going to be someone else who appears to have everything we want, especially in the digital age, where many of us narrate all the fun we’re having through updates, photos, and videos online.

But we tend to overestimate other people’s happiness and forget that in every life, there is a little sunshine and a little rain.

No matter how perfect someone else’s life seems, they still have their own struggles. And they still deal with the natural human instinct to wonder what else is out there, and if there’s something else they should be doing.

We can either focus on other people’s perceived good fortune, or focus our energy on recognizing and fostering our own.

We do that by planting tiny seeds for joy, and then watering them with our attention.

What seeds will you plant today?

Photo by onecog2many

“There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle, or you can live as if everything is a miracle.” –Albert Einstein

The other day I started writing in a gratitude journal again, right as I was overcoming a cold. After I wrote my boyfriend’s name, my family, and Tiny Buddha, I wrote “breathing through both nostrils.”

A few days prior, when my right side was all stuffed up, I wasn’t doing that so well.

It occurred to me then that when I’d kept a gratitude journal before, I never once expressed by appreciation for the ability to breathe through both sides of my nose—and yet I’ve done that on the vast majority of my days.

In fact, I’ve likely been able to breathe through both nostrils on over 11,500 days, if you assume I’ve been stuffed up for no more than 10 days during each year of my life.

It never occurred to me appreciate this because I took it for granted.

Yet in that moment when I wrote it down, I truly felt a sense of relief and joy about the simple act of breathing properly.

I wondered then: How many other outlets for gratitude and joy do I ignore on a daily basis? I asked myself:

How often do you stop to recognize how comfortable your desk chair is? When’s the last time you stared out the sliding glass doors and appreciated that you live in a well-lit space? How regularly do you log onto the Internet and marvel at the wonders of modern technology?

We live our lives surrounded by tiny wonders. In any given moment, there is a multitude of sounds, sights, and sensations to experience and savor.

It’s easy to forget these things are gifts, especially when we’re caught up in our heads, dwelling on what went wrong, worrying about what might go wrong, or finding things wrong with ourselves and our circumstances instead of really being present.

When we’re able to seep into the moment, suddenly we remember how fortunate we are to be here, breathing, sharing this great big beautiful world.

We’re inevitably going to have dark days, when life feels more like a tragedy than a miracle. But we can trust that when we’re ready to appreciate the light, we’ll find it. It’s always there. It’s everywhere.

Photo by Wonderlane

Note: I’m excited to share that USA Today reviewed my book, Tiny Buddha: Simple Wisdom for Life’s Hard Questions! If you’re interested, you can read that review here.

“Happiness can only be found if you free yourself from all other distractions.” -Saul Bellow

I have had a long-standing love affair with bath tubs.

I stayed in numerous hostels while completing a semester in Europe; I stayed in hotels in nearly all of the 50 states while touring for work; and I lived in a dozen different apartments in Spokane, Washington, NYC, and the San Francisco Bay Area before moving to Los Angeles last year.

Through all of my travels, I had the world I dreamed of right outside my door, and yet I was often terrified of exploring it, and engaging with people within it. As a result, I felt utterly alone.

In those moments, when I felt a deep sense of longing and internal conflict, I’d run the water, melt into the cocoon-like heat, and watch the air fill with steam as I avoided creating clarity around my feelings.

It took me years to realize I had created a healthy crutch. This wasn’t an addiction or dangerous avoidance tactic—I had those, as well. This was something innocent and harmless, but nonetheless, a way to hide from myself.

I know lots of people who have their own “healthy crutches.” Some people throw themselves into work or hobbies so they won’t have time to think. Some people consume themselves in helping other people so they don’t have to help themselves.

None of these things are inherently bad. It’s great to relax and be productive, and the world is a better place when we look out for each other. But it’s our intentions that define our choices. With crutches of any kind, the intention is always the same: to indulge in something pleasant instead of acknowledging something unpleasant.

It’s only in acknowledging our true intentions that we’re able to understand our needs—and that’s the first step to meeting them.

I am someone who needs to explore and engage with the world. I need to be curious, and social, and active. I also need plenty of time to simply be, whether I’m meditating in a park or unwinding in the steam that feels like home.

We all have multifaceted needs, and we all lose touch with them from time to time. This means we have to be willing to check in and ask ourselves: What do I need right now? And am I addressing it or hiding from it?

Photo by Wonderlane

“Man stands in his own shadow and wonders why it’s dark.” -Zen Proverb

I’ve recognized that I come to my computer to write for one of two reasons:

Either I feel the need to explore something that’s relevant to my life, and in doing so, start a conversation about it; or there’s something bothering me that I haven’t fully addressed, and I’m hoping the conversation will make me feel better about it.

Last week an old friend wrote to congratulate me on my book. She started the email by joking that she wouldn’t “sell my secrets if the tabloids called.”

Though I doubt she was referring to anything specific, this struck a nerve with me because I’ve shared a lot of my personal experiences, but there are some stories I haven’t told.

Some of them I’ve worked through and simply don’t want to share; others I haven’t completely addressed, and I’m still working through them privately.

After I read her email, I started to write a post about the difference between authenticity and transparency. I realized three paragraphs in that my sole intention was to receive confirmation that I am not a fraud for keeping certain things to myself.

So I decided to sit with this, and give myself the reassurance and acceptance I hoped you’d give me.

I realized then that this same idea applies in everyday life, as we engage with other people and, consciously or unconsciously, look to them to give us what we’re not giving ourselves.

If we’re feeling down on ourselves, we may look to other people to validate us. If we’re feeling drained, we might look to other people to give us permission to take a break.

If they don’t give us what we need, we can end up feeling frustrated, and direct that at them. Ironically, even when people say what we think we want to hear, it tends to fall flat if we don’t truly believe they’re right.

What makes it all the more complicated is that we don’t often realize we’re doing this. It’s far more comfortable to search outside than it is to look within.

But if we want to fully feel the warmth of light, we need to first access our own. That starts with asking ourselves: What do I really need—and how can I give it to myself?

My book blog tour for Tiny Buddha: Simple Wisdom for Life’s Hard Questions has come to an end! Check out the final stops: A video interview on The One Question and a review on Prolific Living.

Photo by Wonderlane

“If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.” -Oprah Winfrey

When I’m not working on Tiny Buddha, I write for ‘tween girls, both as a contributor for a magazine and a ghost writer for a website.

Recently, I wrote several blog posts about the holiday season. One girl commented that she was excited to have received a $50 gift card and a few clothing items.

Everything changed for her when she read that another girl received a $500 gift card and an iPad, among other presents. Suddenly her gifts seemed completely inadequate.

While there’s a lesson in here about our consumer culture, and its effects on our children (the collective “our” since I don’t even have pets, let alone kids), this got me thinking about the comparison game we often play as adults.

It can be challenging to identify what we believe is enough and then feel satisfied with that if we consistently weigh our choices against other people’s.

In my book, I referenced some research that reveals we often adjust our spending based on the earners just above us, whether we can afford to or not. When the rich get richer and buy bigger houses, the earners just below them feel the need to go bigger—and this cascades down the economic ladder.

We end up with a lot of people buying houses farther away from work to get more value for their dollar, commuting longer hours, borrowing more, saving less, and spending beyond their means—which ultimately can decrease our overall life satisfaction. It’s largely because of that instinct to “keep up with the Jonses.” Not doing so can feel like defeat.

But is it really? What does it mean to succeed—to fill a life with things based on what other people think they need, or to fill our time with experiences based on what we truly want?

I’m not going to suggest we stop comparing ourselves to other people, because I prefer to work with human nature than against it. But maybe the trick is to be mindful of what we’re comparing, so it’s less about having the same things as people we imagine are happy, and more about making similar choices to people who truly are.

Those choices rarely have to do with anxiously chasing bigger and better in tomorrow, and everything to do with peacefully creating and appreciating enough today.

Photo by Mala Imports

“If you let go a little, you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace.” -Ajahn Chah

It’s hard to feel peaceful if you dwell on why you should be angry. If you want to feel free, let the story go.

It’s hard to feel good if you feel like you deserve to feel bad. If you want to feel happy, let your self-judgment go.

It’s hard to feel satisfied if you feel like everything needs to be perfect. If you want to feel content, let your perfectionism go.

It’s hard to feel balanced if you like you need to be busy. If you want to feel centered, let the pressure go.

It’s hard to feel relaxed if you’re clinging to fear or anxiety. If you want to feel at ease, let your worries go.

It’s hard to feel loved if you mistrust everyone else. If you want to feel connected, let your suspicions go.

It’s human nature to cling to things that don’t serve us from time to time. But every moment is a new opportunity to let go and be free. Take a deep breath and let go.

“Don’t count every hour in the day, make every hour in the day count.” -Unknown

The other morning I hopped out of bed and made a beeline for the laundry room. Although it contains numerous washers and dryers, unlike the room at my old apartment complex, far more people use it.

This means I might as well camp out in from of the building a la Black Friday if I hope to get my clothes in at some point in the AM. That morning, as luck would have it, two of the washers were still empty three seconds after the door opened.

Since I work from home, I try to be army-style efficient when doing household chores, so I generally know the precise moment when I’ll need to switch my loads into the dryer.

That morning I somehow arrived back at the room with seven minutes to spare. I considered returning to my apartment to squeeze in a few emails; after all, I had a ton to do. Then I realized how absurd that was. It was only seven minutes. Was it really that big a deal to simply wait it out?

Out the window, I noticed a swing set without any children enjoying it, and I realized that while I was worried about wasting time, I was wasting an opportunity for fun.

So I swung. And then I started humming. And then I started singing softly. And then I got a little louder. Then someone walked out of the laundry room, huffing because all the machines were full, until he saw me, a bizarre looking adult singing and swinging alone.

His laughter in that moment reminded me: there is no better use of time than the choice to smile and share it.

I realize we can’t always play with the world, with all the abandon of children. But what if we thought of unexpected breaks less as time to kill and more as time to enjoy?

What if we didn’t think about what we could squeeze in and instead allowed ourselves to forget for a minute that there’s so much to do?

What if we took the opportunity to lose ourselves, even if just for a few minutes, without pressure, stress, or an overwhelming sense that there’s something else we should accomplish?

There will always be more to do. But sometimes the best use of time is choosing to forget about that.

Photo by wonderlane

“Don’t postpone joy until you have learned all of your lessons. Joy is your lesson.” -Alan Cohen

There have been times when I’ve hurt tremendously and then felt a strong need to punish myself for my part in causing that pain. Usually it’s when I’ve made a mistake, and I feel ashamed, like I should have known and done better.

This is kind of ironic when you think about it—clearly I wanted to know and do better to avoid hurting, and yet instead of letting it go, I’ve continued to make myself feel bad.

When I was younger, someone once told me the more we hurt, the more we learn. While I agree that pain can be one of our greatest teachers, I’d like to challenge the presumption that there’s a direct correlation between learning and pain.

I think a better belief about pain is that each time we hurt, we learn a little about hurting less. I’m not suggesting there will ever be a time when we stop experiencing pain. We’re human, and we will always feel the full range of emotions—which is a good thing, since there would be no light without a little dark.

But every time we deal with something painful, we have an opportunity to learn how to decrease our suffering.

With each difficult experience we can learn how to more effectively let go, forgive ourselves, and move on.

With each challenge, we can learn how to think about things a little more positively and respond a little more proactively.

With each struggle, we can learn to attach to our feelings less so that they do not define or control us.

We can live our lives feeling frustrated with ourselves for having room for improvement, or we can accept that life is constant growth and give ourselves as much room as possible for joy.

Photo by Emse_Vos