….which could, I’m sure, be applied to our possessions….let them go, gracefully……x
Apparently, lottery winners tend not to report themselves any happier ten years down the line. In fact, within just three months of a significant lottery win, statistics show we return to the level of happiness we had before.
Do I buy that ticket, then, or not bother?
Well, buying a ticket is our way of putting our hand up; “yes please, I’d like to be happier”. No harm in that, aiming for happiness. We all want to be happy.
You’re right. But I’m sure I’d be happier if I won just a bit. Enough to pay off the mortgage, or get a deposit on a house. That would do it. I could relax a bit.
Sounds good, I agree. I met a man once who did just that, and bought an extra field and a horse. He took his horse and a cart around the village every day after that, and was very happy. A simple life. That’s all he wanted.
Cool. But didn’t he want anything else?
No, he was happy enough. He’d lived in the village all his life, with his family and friends. That was enough for him.
There you are then. You only need a bit.
Yes, but how much is a bit? I met another man who had won £2,000. “Lucky you”, I said.
“No, he complained. It’s a kick in the teeth, £2k. What can I do with that? That’s only enough to keep the wife happy for a couple of weeks”.
“A kick in the teeth?”
“Too right. I’d rather not have won anything”
“But for some people that’s life changing. They could buy a car which could get them a job”.
OK I get your point. If you’re miserable by nature perhaps money can’t help. But that was only £2,000. The other guy obviously got more.
He did. He won £80,000 in a syndicate win with his friends. But I got the feeling that the first would have very happy with an extra £2,000, and the second probably wouldn’t have been any happier with the jackpot win. It’s just the way they were.
Is that it, then? Just the way we are?
I think so. It’s nice to think that a magic ticket would change our level of happiness just like that. But imagine… say you got your gold lamborghini, did your round-the-world-trip, bought your dream house and had champagne for breakfast. Six months later you’re sitting in your dream kitchen and your champagne breakfast is nice, granted, but it doesn’t have the same wow-factor that it did the first week. And you realise that breakfast is breakfast, wherever you are, and you are still the same you. You might have a touch more tan and whiter teeth, but you’re still the same underneath. The only difference might be that you’ve nothing left to dream about because, frankly, you’ve done it. So what now? What’s left?
And then? That’s the trouble; we keep chasing our tails. Once we’ve got something, we want the next fix. It’s like an addiction. A habit we’ve got ourselves into, that we all subscribe to. We link money with happiness without thinking. Our whole society’s bound up in it. Ultimately, money fails us on a personal level.
Point taken. But I could give some to my friends, too. That would be nice. And some to charity. It’s not all bad. A few million could go a long way!
Yes, altruism is certainly a contributor to personal happiness. Giving is good.
But lottery winners get hassled, don’t they? Everyone asking for money. And working out how to distribute it. That’s a big responsibility. Hard to do the right thing.
Sure, there’s a lot of thinking to be done. And a lot of discernment. Working out who’s genuinely motivated, where best to focus your money, all those things. Not a bad problem though. Not if you can do good with it.
A tough one, though. You could lose a lot of friends and be left very untrusting.
Yes, it happens. And our friends are one of our primary ingredients for happiness. So it can be a major loss. Being without friends can make us more unhappy than we were before, very quickly. We’re social beings.
It’s not looking quite so attractive, winning the lottery…
Well, there’s a lot of good that can come of it. But as superman said, with great power comes great responsibility….
Maybe it’s responsibility we should be working on, then. You don’t need money for that. And friendships. Friends are free.
Not a bad idea. We could put the money we saved on tickets towards self-help books to share with friends. A self-help library! Then we might not feel the need for a ticket! 🙂
Is that the answer, do you think? Work collaboratively with our friends towards a happier society?
Funnily enough, they’ve been doing that in Bhutan since 1972. They made ‘Gross Domestic Happiness’ a priority above economic wealth.
You’re kidding! For real?
Yes, and they’re officially the happiest country in the world (the UK is about halfway in world ratings).
Why can’t we do that?
Why indeed… Here’s the World Happiness Report, compiled in 2013 by Richard Layard, John Helliwell and Jeffrey Sachs. Their aims are to end extreme poverty, achieve environmental sustainability, embrace social inclusion and operate under good government. Maybe you could use your lottery winnings to propel these aims?
Good idea, if I win. But I’ll start at the source. I’ll think more carefully about what makes me happy every day, and make sure those things feature regularly in my life. Friends, yoga, walking, making cakes… all that stuff…. perhaps I’m happier than I thought!
Next month my passport’s up for renewal. The question is this; do I make a straightforward renewal in my married name, or revert to my maiden name?
This wouldn’t be an issue at all if
a) I’d stayed married
b) I hadn’t taken my husbands surname or
c) it didn’t matter. But here we are.
I guess that
a) was ultimately my decision (I never should have gone there, though I loved him to bits).
b) also my decision, though long deliberated over. My guiding thought here was having the same name as my children, who already had their father’s name. Goodness, we complicate things.
c) in a way doesn’t matter, because who I am remains unchanged no matter what name I answer to. But having adopted authenticity as my guiding principle, it kind of does. I was given a name at birth. That is my name. But to change back requires an immense rigmarole, affecting all my accounts and trappings.
I’ve no preference to either. They’re both fairly standard, get-on-with-it kind of names. Very practical. My married name’s longer, so my signature drops off the planet at the end, which my first never did. There was a directness, a vibrancy, in a short surname that I liked. Only two syllables in the entire name, which is as punchy as you can get. It irked when I was young, but now that simplicity appeals.
If I had my ex’s attributed name, things might be different.
My ex likes his coffee. A lot. He likes it particularly hot, so walks backwards and forwards to the counter in cafés getting it re-steamed. This earned him the honorary title ‘Walks with Fresh Cup’, which is poetic for an expensive habit that became less poetic over time.
Thinking about it, I could have been Jane-who-walks-with-walks-with-Fresh-Cup once we married. You’d walk tall with a name like that, but it would be harder to fit on the signature line. Logically, post divorce I’d be Jane-who-used-to-walk-with-walk-with-Fresh-Cup, which doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue but is certainly memorable. Not a name to mess with.
Its a mystery to me why the Western world pays so little deference or creativity to names. It wasn’t always thus. Not so long ago we had names like Constance, Faith and Grace. Names that spoke gravity and purpose. In Africa I met a fabulous dynamic young woman whose parents had the foresight to name her Independence. She was that, personified.
Oh to have a glorious name like Crazy Horse, Wind-in-the-Face or Touch the Clouds. Who wouldn’t follow a name like that? A name that would lead a Chief to glory, despite himself. A name to live up to. A guiding light.
Western names are veiled, and unless you’re royalty or somesuch (Lord Louis Mountbatten springs to mind, though there are better examples). I swear they do it to keep us down. (No aspirations for you, my girl; Plain Jane will suffice).
Jane has Hebrew roots and means ‘God is gracious’, which is rather lovely and reflects a sense of cerebral gratitude. But you’d never know, unless I wore it on a T shirt. We just don’t seem to be that interested in our names. So how can we grow into them?
When my first son was born, I wanted to call him Clay. A name that was rooted, grounded. Something about this new being inside me seemed to need anchoring. But the resistance around me was palpable. Clay was not to be.
Instead we called him Jasper (I discovered later it’s a common name for a dog), considering that it held a certain dignity. And yes, we could envisage it on the side of his briefcase. He could be a solicitor with a name like that. Or a musician. Whatever his life holds, Jasper will deal with it bravely. He has that in him. A nobility. It’s in his name.
The thing with names, I’m learning, is they are just the beginning. We absorb them, and they can bring us forward in the world, but ultimately our actions, our being, can surpass them. Whichever surname I go with (I could lump them together, but it seems a little OTT for someone who advocates simplicity) will be just fine. My job is to be the best that I can be, and lead my life the best I can, whatever my name might be.
And quite honestly, I could do without the added paperwork.
For some reason this quote and I have only just got acquainted. It’s a good one, and brings to mind the expression ‘spouting off’ which has always made me smile.
The very same reason is probably responsible for why another related adage had passed me by;
“You have two ears and one mouth. Apply them in that order”.
Ah yes, again. Hmm.
I received a lovely comment to a post recently. It was about the process of blogging, and how it had helped her learn when to speak, and when to shut up. A most valuable lesson.
Can you see a pattern emerging?
I’m passing them on, these synchronistic phrases, quietly and thoughtfully. Today’s gift for you, with not another word from me.
Responses, however, are most welcome.
I confess. I’ve been lamenting.
I’m pretty good at focussing. I’m not a dynamic whirlwind of materialisation like my friend Tamsin, who can manifest a second house by the sea, move internal walls to create spaces where none ever existed and organise a party for her inlaw nephews and nieces – all 13 of them – whilst smoking a roll-up and downing a tumbler of Shiraz. That may be my aspiration (and she’s an excellent role model) but I’m not there yet. I get stuff done though. I move forward. I tick boxes and enjoy accomplishments. Life’s there to push against, to find what you’re made of.
But I lament nonetheless. I lament the dreams I held as feasible goals, that now seem less so.
In my head are telling fragments of lyrics (I’m not clever enough to pinpoint my moods without internal prompts);
‘This is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful wife……………. my God! How did I get here?’ (Remember that? Talking Heads).
And on my iPad, 5 open tabs brandish my state of mind:
- 5 bedroom riad in Marrakech (my most extreme vision)
- 3 bedroom riad in Fez (there’s some flexibility. Not much, but some)
- My local used car dealer ( my car broke down irrevocably today. RIP car. ‘Oh dear’ says bank account)
- Youtube (for complimentary inspiration and distraction)
- This one. Edit Post. Which could be a metaphor for my life at this point (any point, if I’m being philosophical).
A clear demonstration of goals and reality at odds.
I’m a great one for advocating steering our own ship, or we end up in the wrong harbour. But I wonder sometimes: are dreams really our raisin d’être, or are they just a habit, an idealised form of a vision we had when, let’s face it, we had a very small view of what life was, what humanity is, how people behave and what formulated beauty?
I don’t know. I’m simply pondering.
But what if the vision you had, the one you strive for and value, the thing you seek, the thing that gives you purpose and drive, isn’t actually what is good for you? What if your desert island proved an unbearably lonely place? What if Tamsin gets burnt out by her efforts? And isn’t that why some of us just keep on pursuing the wrong partners, to the exasperation of our friends?
What’s more important? The beautiful pursuit of a dream and accomplishment if our life’s purpose, or the pursuit of reality and accomplishment of a life understood?
You tell me.
Here’s the Rolling Stones from 1969 with a silver lining on the subject. Wise young sages they were.
Take yourself back, Jack. Go ahead. I’m with you all the way. But were you really stolen? Or did you give yourself away?
We can all blame others, because that’s what we’re used to. Sometimes too easily. I’ve done it.
It’s your life. Take charge. Keep being yourself, always. If you’re not being truly yourself things will get dodgy.
Look out. Look left, look right, look straight ahead. Whichever direction you can. But always ask; Am I being myself? The quicker you notice, the faster you can rectify. Be you. Always. And learn to notice when you’re not.
And when you’re not, get yourself back. Awesomely and with pride for doing it. But don’t blame anyone, just learn the lesson.