How to find Happiness A-Z: W

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W is for all the work.

Looking back over the years, I often wonder when was I the happiest. Do you ever pause and ponder that? In my "E" post I talked about education, and how the times I've been learning are the times I'm happiest. That's because I'm working toward a goal.

I've never appreciated my music talents as much as I should. They come easily. But writing? Writing has always been a challenge. I have an abstract brain. What I mean is, I get modern art. Poetry is a cinch. Artsy-fartsy mumbo-jumbo clicks.

Image courtesy of thisisbossi

Suffice it to say, I've had to work hard at writing to make sure all that abstractness fades away. I've dedicated years to this pursuit, feeling I lacked the natural talent many of my peers were blessed with. The other day I read this in How to Write  Damn Good Novel by James N Fray:

"Most of these folks with so much raw talent will not make it as a novelist. Why? Because they lack what's truly necessary: self-discipline, dogged determination, and stick-to-tiveness."

This is my golden prize. This is the next big mountain I've been climbing, and some day I'm going to look back and see the effort has paid off. Regardless, my joy doesn't come from the view at the end, it's a part of every step, every new concept mastered, every page completed, and every head-pounding frustration along the way.

What are you working toward? And do you find joy in your labor?

On the Wonders of Cheese...and symbolism

If you've been here for very long you certainly noticed the redundancy of my one fetish. Call it a character quirk, but if I were to be written into a book you can bet I'd been buying, munching, or mentioning cheese at least once a page.

When I think of cheese the first image to come to mind is that 5 lb golden block of cheddar Mom bought once a week. You know, the staple. It's the one food my family would have ceased to exist without. It represents life, vitality, thriving existence. But more than that, cheese=happiness. Besides the many tongue-tingling motivations to love cheese, I honestly think it's the key to solving all our problems.

Above and beyond it's cheery color, that block of cheddar encompasses lunches spent with my brothers, cheese souffles that my special needs brother died for, and bathroom raids to discover where Randy stashed the block this time. (Yes, he really did steal the cheese and hide it in the bathroom...regularly.) Every childhood memory I have of cheese is tied to family.

Families are the ultimate source of joy. And pain. But mostly joy. 

Connecting to symbolism:

Complex characters, or real people don't simply latch onto an item or notion for no reason. There are deeper motives. So what drives you? What drives your character(s)? And what outward symbols do you use to exemplify this?

Life is like Riding a Bike

This is Random. Yes, Random. He's named after his father's sense of humor...or it's the only name we could agree on...or he's somewhat named after his one-of-a-kind uncle, Randy. Pick whichever story you prefer. Regardless, this kid's a genius. He'll either be a phenomenal architect or an advanced engineer of some kind. He's teaching me new things every day.

So I took him out to ride a bike. First time. After explaining the three necessary functions of successful bike riding (pedaling, steering and balance) he hopped on. Coordination is difficult for a 4 year old. He kept reversing the pedals and bringing us to a dead halt.

Finally I pulled him off the "machine" as he called it
(--sometimes this kids astounds us with his comprehension--), and lifted the tire off the ground so he could see that when we pushed the pedals the bike would work.

Back on the bike he went, but he was too fascinated with the chain to do any pedaling. Again he hopped off. We examined the chain and gears until he was 100% satisfied he knew exactly what made that bike tick. Then after a successful circle of the driveway we retired to our air-conditioned home.

In life we hop on the bike just like Random, trusting the education and authorities we've known. For most things (parenting, writing a book, executing a surgery), no amount of classroom experience can adequately prepare us for what's coming. Life hits hard. We fall down. Occasionally we need to climb off that bike and reevaluate what makes things tick. The problem may be our outlook on life, based on the patterning we've received. (Or understanding how the gears really work.) It may be how we're pedaling. (Or back pedaling.) And sometimes we need help, someone to hold the handlebars while we get the feel.

No matter how discouraging or how many times you have to try again, do it. The process may be painful, but the joy comes in that final ride.