Photo by Amelia Bartlett on Unsplash

“‘What do you like doing best in the world, Pooh?’

“‘Well,’ said Pooh, ‘what I like best,’ and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.”

—A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

I believe the word Pooh was looking for was Anticipation.

Anticipation is that pleasant, tingly feeling we get when we’re looking forward to something in the future. It’s worry’s much happier cousin.

I wrote briefly about the importance of anticipation in my August Happy Little Thoughts newsletter, but it deserves more page time.  (Not a subscriber to Happy Little Thoughts? Become one here. I’ll never sell or share your email with anyone else, and you can unsubscribe at any time.  Happy Little Thoughts comes out once a month, and it will give you something else to anticipate…)

Waiting makes the thing anticipated more valuable. How much more do we appreciate a purchase if we save up and pay cash rather than buy on credit? I still fondly remember the first thing I ever saved my allowance for as a child: a little gold alarm clock with rhinestones surrounding the face, just like the one my best friend had.

Delaying gratification can draw out the pleasure of things we enjoy. Instead of an “on demand” mindset of instant gratification, why not wait? Why not watch one episode of Stranger Things at a time, rather than streaming the entire second season in one weekend? (I may be speaking from personal experience here.)

Scheduling and planning ahead for simple pleasures and everyday adventures rather than just waiting for them to fall into our laps also gives us the chance to anticipate the happy event beforehand. When we buy tickets for a movie this weekend, or a concert in November, we give ourselves time to look forward to pleasurable experiences.

And when we anticipate an event or experience in the future, we have time to deepen our enjoyment by preparing for it. When we anticipate a vacation, we can add to our enjoyment by reading up on the area we’re visiting, researching the cuisine, or practicing the local language if it’s not our own. 

Consciously looking forward to something and preparing for it—whether it’s an experience, event, or purchase—can be a simple pleasure all its own. Cultivate anticipation by deliberately delaying a pleasure, by looking ahead to pleasures to come, or by taking steps ahead of time that you know will deepen your pleasurable experience.

“If we want a joyous life, we must think joyous thoughts. If we want a prosperous life, we must think prosperous thoughts. If we want a loving life, we must think loving thoughts. Whatever we send out mentally or verbally will come back to us in like form.”

—Louise L. Hay, You Can Heal Your Life

Now and then I dip into the Catching Happiness archives and share a post from the past. Even though this one was written in 2013, I’m still doing some of the same things, including purging my house, getting excited about fall, and planning another anniversary trip, this time to commemorate our 30^th anniversary! Apparently, some things never change.

Is it just me, or does September feel like a new beginning? Most of my life I’ve treated September the way most people treat January: as a new year. Even before I had a child going back to school or lived in Florida where the promise of the occasional cooler, drier day bumps up my energy, I reevaluated my life in the fall. My birthday is in September, so I think that adds to the “new start” feeling since like most of us I become more introspective around birthdays.

I’ve thought about starting my own Happiness Project, like Gretchen Rubin has written about in the book of the same name, and its follow-up Happier at Home (where the title of this blog post came from). I even began listing areas I’d like to focus on, but decided I’m not ready to attack things I want to change or enhance in quite that fashion. Planning all those months in advance felt too overwhelming to me. Instead, I decided to take baby steps and do some very simple things to get my new year off to a good start:

First, I’m keeping a time log this week to see where I’m spending my time. (I’m using this one.) From there, I hope to come up with a flexible schedule so I can get the important things done while still having time to play.

My weight has become a concern again, so I’m tweaking my eating and fitness routines to combat those creeping pounds.

I’m making plans for fun by figuring out the details of our postponed anniversary trip and scheduling some upcoming Field Trip Fridays.

I’m purging—the freezer, my closet, my file cabinet. I’m always battling stuff!

Even though it’s still blazingly hot here and it doesn’t feel like fall yet, I’m starting to feel more energetic, more likely to make some changes and explore new avenues. I’m ready to savor simple pleasures and take part in everyday adventures. Even though the calendar says September and not January, I’m ready for a new year!

Do you make any special plans in September? Are there any other times of year you evaluate life, set goals or take up challenges?

Every year I stagger through the summer and I feel surprised when my energy begins to come back in September. This summer is no different. I’m happy to say goodbye to August, and already I feel stirrings of autumn energy (thank goodness) because I have a lot on my plate. For instance:

In October, I’m going to France for three weeks (!) to attend two on-location watercolor workshops with Laure Ferlita. My to-do list has a to-do list, which is part of the reason I’ve been spotty about posting here. Je suis désolé (I’m sorry). 

I’ve been looking for a new boarding barn for my horse, Tank. My longtime barn is being sold so the owners can move closer to family. I found a facility that I like, and at first I thought I’d have to move right away to keep from losing my spot, but that has turned out not to be the case. I’d rather leave Tank with the people he’s familiar with (and who are familiar with him) while I’m gone in October, so this is a good development, if a bit stressful.

Our son is temporarily moving home after his roommate moved out of state. He can’t afford an apartment on his own yet and was unable to find someone he was comfortable sharing with. He’s working on a professional license that should boost his earning power, and is hoping to move out on his own again in a few months. We hope so, too, because as much as we love him, my husband and I have enjoyed it being just us two again.

I’ve been reading some good books, practicing French, practicing sketching, getting my Global Entry approval, and having a yearly physical. Luna continues to be a handful.  I’ve continued writing for America’s Horse, and especially loved writing this piece. 

Add these things to the usual work and personal obligations, and my own summer doldrums, and well, you get it. I’m tired. I’m more than ready for September! And even though we likely won’t get cooler weather until October or even November, in the meantime I’ll watch the light begin to change and to make plans for fall and winter. To be ready for the burst of energy that fall brings. Since travel also boosts my energy, I should be quite a dynamo when I return from France!

So au revoir August—bring on September!

What have you been up to in August? Any plans for the fall?

Introduction by Ted Kooser: John Foy is a poet living in New York whose book, Night Vision, published by St. Augustine’s Press, was the winner of The New Criterion Poetry Prize. I especially like this leisurely, conversational account of a walk in the woods that just at the end lifts its eyes and looks into a deeper place beyond the particulars.

Woods

I took the dog and went to walk

in the auditorium of the woods,

but not to get away from things.

It was our habit, that was all,

a thing we did on summer days,

and much there was to listen to.

A slight wind came and went

in three birches by the pond.

A crow uphill was going on

about the black life it led,

and a brown creeper went creeping up

a brown trunk methodically

with no record of ever having

been understood by anyone.

A woodpecker was working out

a deep hole from the sound of it

in a stand of dead trees up there.

And then a jay, much put upon,

complained about some treachery

it may or may not have endured,

though most are liars anyway.

The farther in, the quieter,

till only the snapping of a stick

broke the silence we were in.

The dog stood still and looked at me,

the woods by then already dark.

Much later, on the porch at night,

I heard the owl, an eldritch thing.

The dog, still with me, heard it too,

a call that came from where we’d been,

and where we would not be again.

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 ©2016 by John Foy, “Woods,” from Night Vision, (St. Augustine's Press, 2016). Poem reprinted by permission of John Foy and the publisher. Introduction copyright 2018 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.