Momma and Me March 13, 2013

From what I’ve heard, it was a bit of a fiasco for my adoptive parents to adopt me. Rather than delve into that whole emotional story right now, I will offer a Reader’s Digest version. To make a very long story (I’m sure I will share at a later date) short, my momma didn’t care what it took to adopt me. It was love at first sight if you believe in such things (which I do).

Apparently, the adoption profiler gave her a bit of grief about the fact that my dad didn’t have prior experience with animals, referenced my alleged behavioral issues, and challenged whether my soon-to-be adoptive parents were prepared to handle such a “handful with a cute face.” Well, my momma told that profiler she didn’t care that I had been previously returned by another adoptive family. She was fine taking me to a behaviorist for my apparent behavioral issues prior to adoption. Heck, she was prepared to adopt a puppy like they did in the movie adaptation of “Marley and Me.”

But she wanted little ole 2-year-old me. Fortunately for me we both won that battle, and our mutual appreciation for “Marley and Me” remains intact. And (in my humble opinion) this is the case because I care so much about author John Grogan’s perspective on dogs.

“A dog has no use for fancy cars, big homes, or designer clothes. A water log stick will do just fine. A dog doesn’t care if your rich or poor, clever or dull, smart or dumb. Give him your heart and he’ll give you his,” Grogan writes. “How many people can you say that about? How many people can make you feel rare and pure and special? How many people can make you feel extraordinary?”

Like many dog-loving fans, we agree that the book was the slightest bit better than the movie, but both versions are pretty special to momma and me. I was around for the majority of  momma’s first reading of the book, and I can testify that she laughed, cried, smiled and everything in between. If anyone were to write my biography, I would want it to be Mr. John Grogan himself.

This is not just because of the brilliance of both adaptations of “Marley and Me,” but because of what he says in his emotional good bye to Marley at the end of the story.

That is the ultimate reflection of a dog’s joy: from the ground up, if you ask little ole me.

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Making Happiness a Habit March 11, 2013

The great and powerful “they” say it takes 21 days to get into a new habit. Good, bad or indifferent as the habit may be, I’d have to say I agree. On day 22 in a row of writing this blog, my newly certified habit found its words in a post on how money can’t buy happiness. As I reflect on that day, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I had happiness on my newly habitual mind.

Fast-forward to today: my 81st day in a row blogging every day and it is definitely a happy day in my life. Today I hit a landmark of 1,000 likes on Wiley’s Wisdom, which inspires me to contemplate Mahatma Gandhi’s words on happiness. “Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony,” Gandhi reminds us. I celebrate this happiness today.

It hasn’t been easy blogging every day. I often worry about whether my stories are even interesting or my thoughts insightful. But this isn’t about me. It is about my heartfelt mission in life to share my thoughts on joy with as many people as possible through what I say, and that is exactly what I will continue to do.

So today I choose share the happiness I feel with you. “Be the change you want to see in the world,” as Gandhi would say. To every single one of you who have supported me, offered me feedback, and (in all honesty) been a friend to me: thank you. I’ve never really had friends before, at least not in the practical sense. Yet in less than three short months since I started Joy: From the Ground Up, I now have more than 150 of them. I am so blessed.

I don’t think it is a coincidence that I wrote one of my first posts on happiness the day after it became an unconscious habit for me. When it comes to coincidence I am also a believer in something I call “God things.” You know, those moments when the stars align, the heavens open up and the birds sing our most favorite harmonious song. Or when you think, say and do are in harmony, as Gandhi would say. But there’s this thing about those moments that I can’t help but find thought-provokingly ironic. You have to actually pause to appreciate them or the moment may just pass you by. I don’t think I have to worry about that anymore. It’s official: happiness is a habit for me now.