“I don’t have to chase extraordinary moments to find happiness—it’s right in front of me if I’m paying attention, and practicing gratitude.”

—Brene Brown

It’s Gratitude Challenge time again! For the fourth year in a row, I’ll be participating in Dani DiPirro’s 30-Day Gratitude Challenge. Starting today, every day in November I’ll be posting on Facebook and Instagram a photo and a few words about the day’s prompt. I love doing this challenge, because it reminds me how much I have to be grateful for—often times things I take for granted or have even forgotten about. If you don’t follow me on Facebook or Instagram (and even if you do!), at the end of the month, I’ll do a wrap up on Catching Happiness of my favorite prompts. (Click here for last year’s review post.)

Want to play along? Click here for more information.

In 2017 we’ve seen terrible stories of loss and suffering. Hurricanes, wildfires, mass shootings, a volatile and divisive political climate—and that’s just in the U.S. Every day it seems there’s a story that will break your heart. In the face of all this, I sometimes wonder if it’s OK to be happy. How can I be when so many people are miserable? Do you ever wonder this, too?

I won’t keep you in suspense. The short answer is yes, it’s OK to be happy.

The kind of happiness Catching Happiness is ultimately concerned with is not only the “simple pleasures and everyday adventures” of the tagline, but the deeper waters of joy and contentment. Joy and contentment come from living the best life we can live, doing what we think is right in most situations, appreciating what we have, sharing with others and helping when we can, enjoying and savoring the good in our lives, and learning from our mistakes and tribulations.

Though I personally am not suffering at this moment, suffering happens. It’s happened to me before, and is certain to happen again. I need to embrace the happy times and not waste them or push them away in fear of what the future holds.

It’s much easier to be—and talk about—being unhappy. We bond over complaining, forming instant connections over irritants like traffic jams or the latest crisis in our lives. But when it comes to sharing our happiness, we’re afraid it sounds like bragging. We can be afraid to share the highs with others because we think it will make them feel bad, but is this really true? That probably depends on the audience. It’s possible someone you don’t know very well and who’s not familiar with your life’s ups and downs might think you’re bragging. But if it’s someone who cares about you, he or she will likely be happy for you. Use sensitivity and tact when sharing the good. Sometimes your happiness will be an inspiration and encouragement to others. At least they don’t have to worry about you!

Remember this: Our happiness does not hurt anyone. Our unhappiness doesn’t help anyone.

Also remember: happiness is contagious. 

So go ahead and be happy. Bring your awareness to what makes you feel happy, and don’t be afraid to share your happiness with others. This world is in desperate need of more good stories and happy adventures.

Photo by Sven Scheuermeier on Unsplash

Introduction by Ted Kooser: Several years ago I published a children’s book about a bag in the wind, so it’s no wonder I love this poem by April Lindner, who lives in Pennsylvania. Once you start noticing these windblown bags, you see them everywhere. Her most recent book is This Bed Our Bodies Shaped (Able Muse Press, 2012).

Carried Away

One rainy night we sat in traffic

and, overtired in back, you saw

a wind-whipped grocery bag afloat

beyond the clutch of jagged branches,

swept by gusts and whirled in eddies.

A sudden downdraft swooped it earthward,

where it danced till with a whoosh

a current luffed it past the power lines.

Disowned by gravity, small ghost

not yet snagged by twiggy fingers,

it couldn’t reach the earth. Thin-skinned,

it pulsed, translucent jellyfish.

You wept and pled to be let out

into the dark and slanted rain,

somehow to save that desolate thing.

The light turned green and still you begged,

Go back, go back, on its behalf,

caught and held, bossed and tossed

by a will much greater than its own.

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 ©2010 by April Lindner, “Carried Away,” (The Hudson Review, Vol. LXIII, no. 1, Spring 2010). Poem reprinted by permission of April Lindner and the publisher. 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.

Northern California was particularly photogenic this month. Instead of telling you about my trip, I’m going to share a few of my favorite photos. (Neither of my parents lives in an area threatened by wildfires—at least right now—though we could smell and see smoke some days.)

One of my favorite things to do when I visit my mom is to walk every morning on the land that I grew up visiting every summer. I snap photos of whatever flora and fauna I come across. (Alas, no horses next door this year.) How fallish it looked (click on photos to make them bigger):

The cows came over to see what I was up to:

When I visit my dad and step mom, I also get to see my feline “sister”:

This year, we dropped in to see my step mom’s brother, who is the manager of Funderland, an amusement park that’s been open since 1946. He remembers going there when he was a child! The rides were adorable and I want to devote a page in my travel sketchbook to them: 

I hope you’ve enjoyed this sneak peek into my visit to California. I miss it already. Even though I’ve now lived in Florida longer than I lived in California, since I grew up there it will always feel like home.

“Something wonderful happens to you and you instantly look back over your life and see it as a series of fortunate events stretching off into the distance like mountain peaks. Something terrible happens and your life has always been a litany of woe. The present rearranges the past. We never tell the story whole because a life isn’t a story; it’s a whole Milky Way of events and we are forever picking out constellations from it to fit who and where we are.”

—Rebecca Solnit, The Faraway Nearby