Sometimes an idea just keeps presenting itself to me until I have to pay attention. In this case, the idea is noticing and recording things that make me happy.

First, I read about something called the “What-Went-Well Exercise” (also called “Three Blessings”), in Martin Seligman’s book, Flourish. He writes, “Every night for the next week, set aside ten minutes before you go to sleep. Write down three things that went well today and why they went well. You may use a journal or your computer to write about the events, but it is important that you have a physical record of what you wrote. The three things need not be earthshaking in importance…but they can be important.” (Seligman also encourages recording why the event happened, but I find that more problematic—many of my happy events, like “I rode Tank today” or even “I finished everything on my to-do list today,” don’t seem to have a “why” beyond “I just did it.” Maybe I’m missing something?) 

Next, I heard about the 100 Happy Days Challenge. Every day submit a picture of what made you happy to a social media site such as Instagram, Facebook or Twitter, with the public hashtag #100HappyDays. If you don’t want to do this publicly, you can come up with your own hashtag that you share only with those you want to see your photos, or you can send your photos to myhappyday(at)100happydays.com. (Of course, you don’t need to share your photos with anyone, but it helps keep you on track and “honest” if you do.)

According to the challenge organizers, “People successfully completing the challenge claimed to:

Doesn’t that sound great? For more information, or to sign up for the challenge, click here. 

My third exposure to this idea came from Dani Dipirro at Positively Present: The Jar of Happy Things. During all of 2013, she wrote down favorite moments on bright scraps of paper, storing them in a jar (she had so many she had to buy a second jar!). I love the visual of the jar filling up with happy moments, and the idea of being able to read through a year’s worth of them all at once. Her post, titled “Five Benefits of Noting Happy Moments,” is worth a read. 

Why do any of these things? My reasons include, first, awareness in the present moment of all that is good and happy in my life. I have the habit of allowing myself to worry about what is not going right—or what bad things might happen in the future—instead of appreciating the good things (and there are plenty of them) right now.

Second, actually recording happy moments should help me remember them in the future if and when bad things happen.

Third, what you focus on expands. My hope is that by focusing on the happy moments, I will have more of them!

I’ve been doing the “What Went Right” exercise most nights since I first read about it, and I’m quite tempted to join the #100HappyDays Challenge—I love the idea of a photographic record of happiness! What about you? How do you keep track of the happy moments in your life?

Happiness doesn’t always appear clothed in big events. Sure, it’s great to achieve that milestone or major goal, but if we wait for those occasions, our happy moments will be fewer than they need be. The more we take pleasure in what I call “happy little moments,” simple pleasures and everyday adventures, the more genuine satisfaction will fill our lives.

For instance, just a couple of weeks ago, we discovered that our pancake syrup bottle top has a smiley face:

I appreciate the extra effort the manufacturer took to make that opening look like a smiley face—the more smiling faces I see first thing in the morning, the better!

In addition, last Friday, I agreed to go to the courthouse in downtown Tampa with a friend who needed a copy of a document. We planned to eat lunch at Le Mouton Noir afterwards as a reward, but when we came out of the courthouse, we found several food trucks stationed around the park across the street. Tables and fans were set up and a man was playing the guitar and singing. One of the trucks proclaimed that it was winner of the “best Cuban” in Florida, and had a significant line of people waiting to order. Since the day was not overly hot (for Florida in August) and my friend has an abiding interest in Cuban sandwiches, we changed our plans, ordered our lunch and found a table in the shade. The sun played peek-a-boo behind the clouds and a small breeze kept us mostly comfortable (for Florida in August) as we ate our sandwiches and listened to the music. (Verdict: the sandwiches were tasty and generously sized, but I’d need to eat quite a few different ones to weigh in on whether they were “the best”.) We both kept saying, “I can’t believe we’re eating lunch outside in August and enjoying it!”

Both these recent experiences were unexpected (not actively pursued), and they both gave me little bursts of happy feeling that lasted longer than the time they took to occur. They reminded me to pay attention to happy little moments—and that those moments are there, even in something as insignificant as a syrup bottle.

What has made you unexpectedly happy?

I spent a happy hour sitting on our lanai after dinner one night last week. I dipped in and out of my book, but mostly I listened to the birds, trying to identify the different species I saw and heard (I’m terrible at this but enjoy it anyway). A frog’s voice pulsed from somewhere to my left. My dog occasionally announced her presence to the world by randomly barking at nothing in particular. A squirrel jumped onto the screen enclosure with a soft thunk, a couple of people jogged by on the trail. A hawk perched on the limb of an oak, rubbing his (or her) beak against the bark. The insects began an evening chorus.

I noticed that when I stop to listen, the quiet evening is full of small clicks and chirps and rustlings. Noticing them and trying to figure out what they are gave me deep pleasure.

I’ve noticed, too, that when I slow down the pace of my everyday activities, I observe so many details I might have otherwise missed: the way the morning light glows in my bedroom when I open the blinds, the smell of brewing coffee and of the gardenias on my desk, the taste of strawberries and the spacecraft-taking-off-for-Mars clatter of the washing machine. These little details make up the real “fabric of our lives” (with apologies to the cotton industry) and too often I’m oblivious to them. I think I’ll make sitting outside after dinner a regular practice. I can always learn to listen better.

What do you notice when you listen?