I’m piggy-backing from a recent New York Times article that says if your New Year’s resolution is to be happier, then don’t put yourself first.
Forget the spa retreat, the gym membership, or the make-over and instead invest in your relationships.
Engage in activities that broaden your circle of friends. Do things that strengthen your ties with others; especially your loved ones.
Specifically, do something nice for others because the inherent byproduct is it gives you joy.
Happiness is a shared experience.
Though I know this advice is true, it’s sometimes a challenge for me to embrace.
I don’t know if I can be classified as an introvert, but I certainly enjoy my solitude.
Of late, nothing has brought me more joy than the Sisyphean task of pulling weeds, especially now that the clayey soil has eased its grip.
No matter that it’s all too brief until the next crop emerges, I like seeing a patch of grass that can “breathe.” I like freeing small saplings from the vise-like grip of vines, and seeing them spring back and stand tall.
Lately I’ve been tackling a large swath of weeds that as far as I can determine hail from the Euphorbia species, not to be confused with euphoric. There’s nothing delightful about them.
Commonly referred to as spurge, their woody stems are tough on hands. I’d wear gloves, but to find the roots I have to lightly feather my fingers among their leaves to locate their center.
Aiding me in my task is the audio version of Charles Dickens’ “David Copperfield.” I’m on hour 29 of the 36-hour recording and though I realize either the book or the winter weather will bring the activity to an end, it’s resulted in a very satisfactory pile of weeds, which is an odd thing to feel good about.
To be sure, the venture has not been nearly as rewarding as when in years past I’ve worked alongside small groups to help clear the walking paths at what is now the Portland Lehigh State Park. Even an author of the caliber of Mr. Dickens can’t compete with the light banter of strangers who over the years have turned into acquaintances and a few of those even into friends.
The fact that I was working toward a greater good — not just my personal space — also made the activity more satisfying. Knowing that it made a difference to others, made a difference in me.
The best success I’ve ever had with New Year’s resolutions is to start small.
I know myself too well to expect I’m going to suddenly become a Dale Carnegie.
But I can certainly do a better job of being a better friend to the people I already know.
