“The absence of unhappiness is not happiness.”

—Peter Jones, How to Do Everything and Be Happy

The start of a new year often finds us resolving to simplify our lives, particularly if we’ve just come through a whirlwind of holiday activity. Magazine articles and blog posts promise to help us purge our belongings, simplify our schedules, and/or cut our wardrobes to 33 items. I feel the pull towards simplifying, especially when I’m cleaning my house or when I’m on the phone for the third time with a large Phone/Internet Company Who Shall Not Be Named trying to get a DVR replaced. The idea of scrapping it all and moving to the woods  becomes almost irresistible. How simple life would be, just me and the trees.

I agree that many times we make our lives overly complicated and stressful, and that there is a real need to slow down, pare down, and simplify.

However.

Some of the best things in life are complicated. Falling in love, having a baby, adopting a puppy, starting a business, buying a house—or a horse. Yes, we can make our lives too stressful and complicated for no good reason—but sometimes we have good reason. Those complications bring us both joy and meaning.

So if you’re contemplating an action you’re sure will bring complication into your life, I say: Go for it! I think what the simplification gurus are really aiming at anyway is this: Simplify some areas of life in order to have the mental and physical capacity to enjoy your complications. The goal is to discover what is the right level—and right type—of complication for you.

For example: Owning a horse is a complication. It’s an expensive and time-consuming hobby, and involves a large and sometimes unpredictable animal. Still, I wouldn’t trade the experience for any amount of simplicity and serenity. Tank is just one of the complications in my life I treasure, so I feel I can offer a little advice about allowing complications into your life. So here goes.

Introduction by Ted Kooser: I’m well into my seventies, and I warm to simple, peaceful scenes. Here’s a fine love poem by Patricia Traxler, a Kansas poet, whose newest book, Naming the Fires, will be out in early 2016.

Weather Man

When it snows, he stands

at the back door or wanders

around the house to each

window in turn and

watches the weather

like a lover. O farm boy,

I waited years

for you to look at me

that way. Now we’re old

enough to stop waiting

for random looks or touches

or words, so I find myself

watching you watching

the weather, and we wait

together to discover

whatever the sky might bring.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2015 by Patricia Traxler, “Weather Man.” Poem reprinted by permission of Patricia Traxler. Introduction copyright ©2015 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Back in 2010, I wrote a blog post about Barbara Sher’s book Refuse to Choose, and my enthusiasm for my “six-year calendar of happiness.” Thrilled to understand myself better, I thought the calendar represented a way to focus my Scanner nature and enjoy and pursue all the things that catch my interest in a tidy and organized fashion.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

And, at first, it worked pretty well. In 2010, I played with my horse, began learning watercolor, read a couple of classics. In 2011, I did more of the same. However, despite my hopes otherwise, my freelancing sputtered to a halt. I never studied Florida history (2010), did any cross stitch projects (2011), or finished the book I was writing (2012). I had the single word “travel” under 2014, and though I visited my family in California and took a road trip to St. Augustine with a friend that year, that hardly seems like what I’d originally had in mind.

I’m sure Refuse to Choose had advice on making those dreams and goals happen, but I conveniently forgot the part where I had to take action. Here are three mistakes I made:

This reminds me of the Sidney Harris cartoon of two men standing at a blackboard chalked with equations. Step two of the problem they’re solving is: “Then a miracle occurs.” I kept expecting that miracle to occur! I kept expecting to meet my goals or learn fill-in-the-blank or experience I-don’t-know-what without taking any steps to make it happen.

Writing down goals and dreams is a start, but it’s only a start. Just writing down “travel” didn’t take me where I wanted to go, either literally or figuratively. In 2016, things are starting out differently. After I jotted down some goals for the year, I made a list of things I’m going to do in January to reach those goals. Then I made a list of what I plan to do this week. Then I sent that list of tasks to a friend who has agreed to kindly prod me when I start blowing off the steps that will lead me to my goals. (I’m an Obliger, so this step is important for me.) As the year progresses, I will adjust my goals as I need to, and I still want to jot down a few ideas for future years—true to my Scanner self, I have many things I want to explore that I will not have time or energy to tackle this year.

Why do I share this with you? Why should you care?

First, because I hope to have many more simple pleasures and everyday adventures to share with you here on Catching Happiness. More importantly, I hope if I succeed that I’ll be a positive example to inspire you to live a fuller and more interesting life. (And if I fail, I can be a cautionary tale!)

I want to be happier and I’ll bet you do, too. While doing isn’t always the answer, sometimes it is. I want to do more of the things I say I want to do rather than only dream about them. 

“The foundation of a good relationship with intentions and goals is keeping in mind that the primary aim of setting and working toward them is to feel the way you want to feel.”

—Danielle LaPorte