How does this sound: 10 hours with no errands, laundry or grocery shopping, no TV blaring, no checking email or mindlessly surfing the ’net? Yeah, I would have thought so, too. I spent such a day yesterday, but I did not find it relaxing or refreshing. I found it frustrating…and then this morning, I realized how lucky we’d been.

A storm system blew through our area yesterday, drenching us, spinning off tornados, and cutting power to more than 100,000 people, some of whom will not get their electricity back until late today. Strong winds tipped over cars, trucks and small airplanes, flattened fences, tore apart pool cages and snapped power poles. Thankfully, no one was killed or seriously injured, according to the local paper. (To see photos, click here and scroll to "Links from the Times for April 1: Severe storm.")

Forecasters expected the storms to be strong, but not this extreme, so some people (including me) were caught off guard and unprepared. We were without electricity for 10 hours. I didn’t have my laptop battery fully charged and hadn’t taken a shower following my workout. Due to the power failure, our household alarm system caused all the smoke alarms to go off with nerve-shattering blasts. My husband and I ran through the house with a bar stool, disconnecting them. The two radios we have that take batteries didn’t work when we put the batteries in them. Since I didn't know what was happening, I didn't realize how serious this storm system was.

I couldn’t do any of the things I’d planned for the day. No power for doing laundry or working on the computer. The wind and rain made it too dangerous to run errands, and even with candles and battery-operated lamps, it was too dark in the house to do any real work.

I would have enjoyed this if I hadn’t felt worried about dinner and what we’d wear the next day if I couldn’t finish the load of laundry sitting in the washing machine. I worried about the survival of my freezer’s contents and how long we could go before we opened the fridge and let all the cold air out. I felt guilty about what I “should” be doing, and anxious that my Friday would now become too busy to manage.

The real problem here was not the power failure. It was my expectations and slavery to a schedule, my inflexibility and my inability to abandon myself to the moment. It took me nearly all day to wrestle my mind to the ground and relax and enjoy the experience. When I stayed in the moment, I enjoyed hearing the sound of the rain on the roof—something I can’t always hear when all the electrical things are humming. I admired three creamy gardenia blossoms glowing under a silvery white sky, while our oaks bobbed and bowed in the wind. I pulled out and reread one of my favorite books, 84 Charing Cross Road. I only became anxious when I began to think about what would happen if the power didn’t come on soon.

Yesterday, Gretchen Rubin’s emailed Moment of Happiness was this quote from Schopenhauer: “To be sensitive to trifles implies a state of well-being, since in misfortune we never feel them at all.” I realize I am fortunate. We have no damage to our home, and the boarding stable where we keep Tank is completely unscathed. Today, I can think about what I learned from my enforced idleness, catch up on everyday chores—and be thankful that we are all safe.

*I'm beginning a new feature on Catching Happiness--each Wednesday, I'll post a photo, an interesting quote or piece of poetry--something to inpire, amuse, uplift--and help us make it through the week. Hope you enjoy it (and please let me know what you think).

This is my second year to choose a “word of the year” to guide me, and I wanted to stay more in touch with my word than I did last year, when I pretty much let “open” recede into the background. To do that, I’m keeping some brief notes, and performing a quarterly evaluation of how things are going. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

The concept of light can be applied to many areas of my life—my home, health, relationships and attitudes. Each of these areas could use a little “light therapy.” In my home, I’m lightening up by getting rid of excess possessions—pretty obvious, and an ongoing process as I fight my pack-rat-ish tendencies. In addition to getting rid of stuff, I’m incorporating things that bring light to my life, like the simple act of opening all the blinds in my bedroom each day because it lifts my spirits to see the room flooded with light when I walk by.

I’m working to eat lighter (another ongoing project) in hopes that I’ll eventually be lighter; I’m striving for a light touch with family and friends by doing more listening and encouraging and less advising and correcting.

And most important of all, when it comes to my attitudes, choosing light as my word of the year has reminded me to look for the bright side, to focus on the good I find in daily life. When two or more courses of action present themselves, I choose the one that feels “light.” When I feel myself spiraling down into melancholy, I remind myself to look for the light. I think that’s my take-away lesson of the first three months of 2011: Look for the light.

Do you have a word of the year? How is it working for you so far and what have you learned?

Nikolay Okhitin, PhotoXpress.com

In my reading this morning, I stumbled on a phrase that captured my imagination: terra incognita.

Terra incognita means “unknown territory.” It’s a term cartographers used to use to describe unmapped or undocumented regions. According to urban legend, these areas were sometimes labelled “Here be dragons,” though only one map survives with this wording (“Hic svnt dracones”). However, Roman and medieval cartographers did mark maps with the phrase, “Hic svnt leones,” which means “Here are lions.” (Wikipedia)

Why do we expect scary things (dragons, lions) when we face the unknown? Why not expect unicorns, or daisies? It seems to be human nature to expect the worst when facing the unknown, and to some extent, that’s what keeps explorers alive: expecting and preparing for the worst.

To my knowledge, there are no more unknown and unmapped physical lands, though terra incognita is sometimes used metaphorically to describe an unexplored subject or field of research. However, there is still the unknown land, the terra incognita, of the future. None of us knows what the future holds, though plenty of dire predictions can be found as close as your nearest screen—TV or computer.

Since we will all navigate the unknown land of the future, what tools should we use? The same ones we use in navigating our known world: our good sense, our friends and family, our spiritual principles, our ability to learn, and a positive outlook that we can handle whatever lions life throws at us. While we explore, we should be on the lookout for the positive, not just the negative, because I’m more and more convinced we see what we expect to see.

While we certainly should prepare for negative eventualities in our lives, why not also prepare for positive ones? Save money not just for a calamity, but for a celebration once the promotion comes through, the report card contains straight As, or the grandchild is born.

Truly, every new day is terra incognita. We don’t know what it will bring. Whatever it holds for us—daisy or dragon, unicorn or lion—if we cling to our tools of navigation, we’ll come through safely.

Yesterday was Scout’s 12th birthday. She celebrated with a morning walk and a cup of doggie ice cream.

I made my wish--can I eat now?

Birthday princess

Life is good.