Carbless Happiness

During my email spelunking trip a few days back, I ran into a chat conversation I had with my brother in law at the start of the year. There is irony here, which I will explain. I hate to once again come to this, but this epiphany came to me in the midst of a Sunday school lesson as I chatted with my 16-18 year old students about life. The lesson that kicked off this epiphany dealt with gratitude, an appropriate lesson for the Thanksgiving season.

It started with the question, “why are we ungrateful?” It’s a basic question. Before moving on, answer this question, “why am I so ungrateful?” I know you are, even if you think you are not. We think plenty of wonderful things about ourselves that are not true and this happens to be one of them, which makes it a really difficult question to answer truthfully. So, here is my answer and some thoughts that came during the lesson we discussed last January.

I’m ungrateful. I know this because I want more, more than I have, more than I need, more than I deserve. When I ponder this truth I can see how its normality has led me by the nose into the murky depths of the well of selfishness. Yes, I’m greedy. It’s normal. Right? “Place the mask over your face before attempting to secure the mask to your child’s face.” “Every man for himself.” “Know the word before you preach the word.” “Remove the beam from your own eye…” Selfishness is key to survival and often a key to knowledge; this is self-evident. As Socrates said, “the unexamined life is not worth living.” A self-first mentality can be the most important of beliefs. However, it is this same natural instinct of survival that becomes a societies built-in self-destruct mechanism. If this doesn’t make sense, just consider the recent economic debacles we have suffered through because of nonsensical risk and self-first policies. Selfishness was the progenitor of this mess. Alan Greenspan believed that the heads of banks would look after their investors more so than themselves. In essence, he believed that they would act on the behalf of the many and become self-regulating. How ideal and stupid at the same time.

Selfishness unchecked over-stimulates the risk side of the desired reward equation. Call it a midlife crisis. It doesn’t matter. Eventually, our unchecked selfishness leads to that moment where we naively ask, “how did I get here.” The answer – by choice.

So, what to do?

Hypothesis: I want more and in wanting more I rationalize my need for more by conveniently misremembering or failing to assign value to what I have.

There is a simple test. It’s Christmas time. Write me a list of everything you received last year and who it was that gave you each gift. Tell me how it made you feel and what you did with each gift and what you said to this person when you received it. That’s right. You can’t. Although, you will remember a few gifts…the ones that really meant something to you because you assigned it value.

I spend little time considering what I have and what I have been given, and who it was that provided these things, to enable my justification for acquiring more. “That shirt doesn’t fit very well, I should grab another one. We don’t have any food I like; I should grab something I will eat. I work hard so I deserve this new flat screen tv. She’s being mean to me, it’s okay if I cheat this once. I only want what my neighbor has, nothing more. If I get one more promotion, then I’ll be happy. An extra room where we can store all of the stuff we never use would be very useful. We haven’t spent that much money this year on vacation, we can afford a little bit more. That’s why we have welfare and soup kitchens; this bum on the side of the street doesn’t need my money. Nice guys finish last; I’m taking the last one.“

All together now: we consciously or subconsciously decide not to remember what we have or where we came from to justify our selfish desire to acquire more, which is all proof of our dire ungratefulness.

Does that make sense? It’s hard to fathom a world of grateful human beings. People that spend time considering each thing they earn or are given; people that acquire stuff out of need, instead of acquiring more debt in a vacuous quest to vanquish the infinite desire for more. You can’t cut selfishness out of your body. It is a part of your genetic code. Learn. You can understand your selfishness. You can decide to remember. You can spend time thanking and remembering, instead of searching and buying.

Remember. Write it down. Read your list each day. Thank those people, thank that God, or thank that world or those seemingly random events that brought you to this point. Make it a habit. I promise, the more you do this, the less you will feel like you need to have or acquire to be happy.

Being grateful is not about fulfilling some “become a better person” roadmap. Instead, being grateful is the key to satisfaction and happiness. Without it, no amount of money, prestige, awards, religiosity, or power will ever suffice.

Now if I could only get an iPhone, I'd be so happy...

Nothing like a crazy election cycle and a concerted effort by the Church to oppose gay marriage that reminds me of my Great Great Grandfather Anthon H Lund, the Apostle and member of the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints from 1889-1921.

In an Age of the Church's history when individuality is considered an apostate notion, I must admire this singular man. Although I’m still learning about him, I can’t help but chuckle to myself as I read the following thoughts about him as I consider my own Path:

“Anthon H. Lund served as Counselor in the First Presidency under President Joseph F. Smith and under Heber J. Grant. He was always "just a bit different," and not only because of his nationality. At the time of his call the the Twelve, he was the only monogamist among the Apostles. He wasn't afraid to be different.” reference

“Lund was the one to give the first Conference Talk in 1899 emphasizing it was no longer Church policy to gather to Zion, but that Saints were to stay in their native lands and build up the Church there. I wonder how much influence he had in that decision.”reference

“Another example of Lund's disregard of convention occurred in 1903 when Benjamin Cluff, Jr., president of the Brigham Young Academy proposed to the Board that it change the name of the school to Brigham Young University, which had been his aim all fourteen years of his administration. There followed a vigorous dispute over this proposal. Thinking the school was not qualified to become a university, Anthon H. Lund of the First Presidency vigorously opposed it but was outvoted by his brethren. In his diary for the day President Lund recorded, "I hope their head will grow big enough for their hat."reference

“In his diary Lund said that when President Joseph F. Smith nominated his son Hyrum in their meeting with the Twelve in October 1901 that there was talk of nepotism by some of the Twelve. A couple of the Twelve said Hyrum had not served in any major church calling and his qualifications weren't obvious. President Smith told them he didn't know why but the Lord revealed to him that his son was to be the next apostle but that was who the Lord wanted. Elder Lund spoke out in favor of Hyrum's calling saying if that was who the Prophet and the Lord both wanted then the other brethren should support the calling. A vote was called and the brethren voted to call Hyrum Mack Smith as an apostle.

Later when the Apostle Hyrum became ill, he refused medical treatment. Hyrum maintained that the Lord would protect him and he would be cured. His father the Prophet became worried and asked him to reconsider--that the family's personal physician could operate on him immediately. It took several hours to convince him but finally he did it for his father's sake. Peritonitis had set in. When the surgeon opened him up he died on the table from the infection on 23 January 1918. Lund goes on to write that many general authorities expressed the opinion that Hyrum was taken early because he was needed in the Spirit World to work among the youth and that they said that mainly to try to soften the loss for President Smith. Lund stood up indignantly and opined that the needless tragedy would not have occurred had Hyrum been wise and gone to a doctor sooner.”reference

There are many more stories like this about my Great Great Grandfather (time to buy a compilation of his journals). But one final thought regarding the history of the Word of Wisdom. As far as I have studied the issue, it would appear that Anthon did not support the effort by the leadership of the Church to make adherence to the Word of Wisdom a requirement for admission to the temple; the same year my Great Great Grandfather died (March of 1921), President Heber J. Grant the most ardent supporter of strict adherence to the Word of Wisdom and the Prohibition movement, made a successful push to formalize this requirement as a part of church policy. Surely, this will be one of the sections of his journals that I will look at closely. reference.

I wish I could have met this man. Anthon H. Lund. He was a little bit different. In fact he wasn’t afraid to be different. And he was an Apostle and servant of the Lord with a strong testimony of the Restoration.

The unexpected is something that can brighten even my most sour moods. It makes my eyes smile. Genuine happiness. One such moment of this past week is worthy of sharing.

Trick of Treat…what?

Our daughter Zoe is a very happy child. She gallops, literally, around the house. She makes funny noises hoping to get a laugh or two from her dazed parents. Of course, I encourage her giggling; the absurd can be quite absurd. Zoe’s smile is so incredible and incredibly contagious. As Teri has learned, it’s hard not to laugh when you are mere inches away from that smiling face. During our sober walk through the neighborhood this Halloween, Zoe strutted in her horse costume far ahead of her siblings, placing herself in front of each door. And, out of the blue, a few doors later, as one neighbor grabbed a bag of candy, Zoe blurted out, “Trick of treat, poo poo head,” followed by a burst of giggling, “poo poo head, trick or treat”.

Trick of treat, poo poo head. Such statements lead us quickly into that “mortifunny” state that afflicts parents like us. Reminiscent of four year old Taylor’s “ah, my snowman melted, damn it” one late November afternoon four years ago, no amount of “now Zoe, that’s not appropriate” got through to her that evening, and that was before she ate any of that candy.

Trick or treat poo poo head. See, there’s my problem, it’s pretty damn funny.

Oh, Teri reminded me of one more Zoe moment last week. Here is the short conversation as recorded by my lovely wife... "Love is not meat, mom", said Zoe. "What?", said mom, who then looks around the room at the table where Zoe is stealing her sister's meat..."and Love is not stealing your sisters meat (off her lunch)", said mom. "That's stupid!!" said Zoe and she stomped off.

It’s a challenge I give myself every Sunday. And now that I’ve been teaching for almost five years in this same calling, I no longer doubt its importance. I apply the same fighting of assumptions and the same contrarian attitude to my lesson preparation. It’s less about cutting out quotes, and more about waiting for the lesson to reveal itself. It sounds weird, but it works. Two Sunday’s ago, in this same fashion, I came to the following conclusion: living a little bit more like sand would help us all.

If you haven't heard the story about the man that built his house upon the sand, then I can't help you. Sand, I went on to say to the class, has been greatly mis-represented in this one story, leading us all towards a heavy reliance on the physical concept of rock. Of course, not an actual rock, but on the physical characteristics of rock: solid, firm foundation, reliable, confident, immobile, weathered, etc. However, we tend to forget it's somewhat negative characteristics: immobile, hard-headed, stuck, rough, sharp, disdainful, oppressive, egotistical. As is typical, rock has a hard time understanding that it has negative characteristics...because well, it's rock.

Sand, while it can be blown to and fro by the smallest of winds, and it is unattached and selfish in it's bearing attaching itself at a mere whim to other sand around it, only to leave it's fresh companions to other greater/lesser pursuits simply because it can, sand has some fantastic characteristics. Sand can morph. One day it can be a sand castle and the next it can be a hand-print...or a footprint. Sand is easy going, eager to please, open to new ideas and new places. Sand can be pounded without shattering. It can be twisted and turned without damaging it's neighbors. While rough at times, it can with little effort become transparent and beautiful.

Although, Sand presents fear. Rock is something that can be understood, located, stamped, and cataloged. Sand can be elusive (ever tried to find that piece of sand that made it's way up your bathing suit?), gritty, uncomfortable, and it can shift with surprising speed which can be disconcerting. Sand is an unknown that frightens Rock, especially as Rock perceives the Sand's tendency to forcibly weather it, to smooth it's edges, and in essence to change it's shape, without its consent.

So what then?

If you are a bit too much Rock these days, let yourself be moved, let yourself experience new things, let yourself let go of the obsessive control you believe is necessary to remain on your designated path. If you are a bit too much Sand these days, commit to an idea, commit to real changes in your life, test a principle.

And remember, every life needs a sandbox.

Admittedly, I'm the type of person that gets intense personal satisfaction from proving skeptics wrong. A perfect example has to do with spanking children. Every person I told that I wouldn't be spanking my kids gave me this big smile and a big we'll see how long that lasts look (or sternly warned, 'you have to be a parent not a friend'...idiots). It's that supposed wisdom that raises the hairs on my neck and has been a part of my strong dis-taste for authoritarian (e.g. Alphas) figures throughout my life.

So, after reading some headlines about some recent pop culture experiments in marriage, it got me thinking: I wonder if I can find someone that disagrees with this idea...come on now, tell me I can't do it. :)

Is my daily happiness a factor of doing what others think can't be done? This would explain a lot about my desire to surprise instead of simply fulfilling the status quo (remember those ten dozen roses in Vegas Teri, and all of those sweetest/valentines/other lame holidays without a single flower?). A monkey can repeat a task over an over again. But to seek out why the task is being done and how to do it better, to thirst for new challenges and knowledge, to scale new heights in one's personal development, that's something unique, that's something to live for. Complacency (a form of wickedness in my book of life) never was happiness.

I’ve never felt that uncomfortable/misplaced, unless you count freshmen or sophomore year in High School during my mandatory aquatics class; those damn blue swim trunks were unforgiving in every way imaginable...

So, why did I feel uncomfortable? I’ve never been that close to so many well dressed and under dressed women at the same time; pajama tops all the way down to high heels. When I add in the nachos, drink, and the relative obscurity of the whole thing, it starts to sound fun in the guilty pleasure kind of way. But, no, it was neither more nor less than a movie to me. However, I came to realize, this was so much more than a movie to everyone else in the theater.

Sex in the City is the hallmark of a cinema movement towards protagonist female characters that suffer at the whim of the antagonist male. I remember watching my first episode and thinking, "wow, I don't know women like that..."…at least that’s what I thought before going to the midnight premier of Sex in the City, the movie at the request of my wife.

If you are a guy, think The Matrix. If you are a girl…well, um, I’m not sure how to explain it beyond think about the men in your life and their relationship to the original, The Matrix. I was at the opening night of the Matrix Reloaded, which was as far as I know the top grossing opening weekend for a rated R movie. I remember the buzz in the theater as I watched the first Matrix on my laptop before it began with hollers from behind me to “hold it up so everyone else can watch”. The screen darkened. A hush fell over the audience. Then came the tell tale cascade of glowing green digits and the audience exploded.

Fast-forward some five years; there I was at the premier of Sex in the City, the Movie. Honestly, I was caught off guard by the audible gasps, moans, laughing out loud, and huge intakes of breath at the mere name of a famous designer, a slighted female, a dress in all of it’s…dressy glory, or a pair of shoes. And right beside me, my dear wife gasped too. At one point I had to check myself, because my chuckles at all of the sighing and gasping around me threatened to garner me the unwanted stares of hundreds of offended females, and had already earned me a few slaps from my smiling wife. Honestly, I never imagined that a dress or a pair of shoes could be occasioned with so much feminine admiration. But then it clicked. This must be the same reason why stop-motion filming, the bullet flying over Neo as the camera spins around him, and the utter coolness and “wow’s” that are heard across "masculinandom" are so incomprehensible to those of the typical feminine persuasion.

“Whoa, did you see that?” - “Oh no he didn’t!”
“That punch!” - “Those shoes!”
“Those guns!” - “That dress!”
“Nice leather body suit!” - “Mr. Big!”

I’m not sure how to quantify what I gained through my experience, although I do know whatever it was, none of my buddies have been one with the feminine mind for a full two plus hours (something that typically lasts them no more than five or ten minutes).

Well, it’s not that I haven’t been thinking. Instead, I’ve been working. All of the time. Working. And I realize that I’m just as susceptible to the hysteria of the day, as it pounds itself into my head. However, I’m growing tired of the middle class whine (which whining appears to have a significant effect on our children’s perception of what they want in life). It’s starting to grate on my soul. I teach a Sunday school class, one of the most fulfilling parts of my week, and we discussed personal goals, poverty, humility, and just what it is we want from life. Not one girl or boy in my class had ever experienced poverty (not even close), but at the same time not one told me they would like to live in poverty (being poor sucks…being rich is awesome, right class!). Who would right? Who wants to beg for their next meal? Who wants to worry that their children don’t have clothing, medicine, food, shelter, and the means to provide some modern comfort to themselves and to their family? No one. No one wants it to be difficult. No one wants to fall down. No one wants to lose. No one wants to be sick. No one wants to ~pick another thing that you can choose to not want~…funny how that works. Which is where the middle class whine is shown to be the childish notion that it is.

What is the middle class whine? Just turn on Dateline (or any program that uses sensational headlines to encourage your viewer ship). From the water we drink, to the latest foreclosures, the world is about to end…apparently. We are in a recession! Ah!!! Our country is breaking down one bridge at a time! It’s the gays! It’s California! It’s the lack of morals! The end of the World is at hand!!! I’ve heard people pine for the 1950’s…seriously, the 1950’s! Are we that stupid? If I didn’t know better, I would believe that Ahmadinejad was at my very doorstep attempting to force me to convert or die the infidel death. In fact, there is delicious irony in every headline. “Americans are Stuck Staycationing; How Long Will It Last?” Whine. Whine. Whine. Oh poor us. Let’s all cry together. Let’s get it out. “It’s not fair! Mom!!!!"

It’s sick. It really is. We whine about the very things that make us a blessed State in the world. Consider our literal fortunes that we spend on our whining on a daily basis; think through that again. We whine away our spending. Consider the ease of entrepreneurship that exists here. Consider how free we are to act on this world and to change it, instead of being acted on and changed by it. Yes, working is tough. Yes, debt sucks. Yes, we’d like to see more of our friends and less of our co-workers (well, I guess that depends on your co-workers…). But the next time you grab McDonalds on the way to the movies, after filling up your car for the week, once you left your kids with your babysitter, to see the Batman, the Dark Knight or to grab a drink with your buddies without fear of religious and social induced persecution or death, consider the blessed life you lead.

Two oceans and a whole hell of a lot of guns protect you and me from the end of the world. But that’s just it. That is what has made America possible. Individuals like you and me that want to be free and we will damn the country to hell that ever tries to take that away. So, stop whining. Whether you believe in God or not, you have been blessed to be part of this country, at this time in the world’s history (yes, even with George Bush as our president and his ridiculous lackey mentality). No matter what the revisionists claim, it has never been more wonderful to be an American than it is today. Can we commit to stop whining and supporting the cultural machines that take advantage of our irrational pessimism? Write to talk show hosts. Write to newspapers. Turn off that television. Avoid the hour-by-hour slanted historical narrative that can be found on cnn.com, msnbc.com, and foxnews.com (ew, that will be tough).

Here is my shoulder. Let's cry on it. Let's talk about how terrible life is now that we have to cancel our cell phones, our cable, and our high speed internet so we don't go too far into debt...or maybe we should just grow up a little bit more. Yeah - that's it. If we could just mature a little bit every day, we might stop complaining about how it sucks to have such a grand opportunity in life.

stop...Okay. My whine is done.

I loved this article. I think these same kinds of thoughts, every time I visit yet another "buzzword" based design blog. Do we really need a whole new library of words every time there is another design conference?

So - after reading that article, I had to write up a mini rant...oh wait, let me come up with a buzzword for mini rant...take part in my Design Rantebration!

My biggest pet peeve, and I have very few (that I admit to), has to be the plethora of new buzzwords that accompany every design blog that believes in being "awesome", and that has some kick ass software that is "humane" and "simple" and "free" but don't forget to donate! I feel so old now that I've come to accept that I don't have time to keep up with all of the new ways designers have parsed "web designer" to reinvent themselves and rationalize their value to an employer.

My second biggest pet peeve must be every developer that finds it enlightening to follow design blogs or read books on design (or that is intent on asking: well, how does google do it?), and then this person comes to believe that he/she understands design and to top it off attempts to instruct designers on design. For those that understand, no, the commitment pattern isn't meant to be repeated word for word.

Of course, this closely follows my third biggest pet peeve which is the enduring fact of life as a designer: everyone thinks they are a designer. Seriously? Can't you just do your own job?

Maybe if I realign my resume and make it interactive yet humane, by focusing on developing a persona around which I should design such a resume, I will be so damn in with the most buzzworthy of buzzers, they couldn't help but hire me.

I just need a designacation. Maybe I'll read a book on Java.

How sad. I can, with much certainty, attest to the belief that goals left by the wayside produce no happiness, such as writing a personal blog. It's been more than twenty days since I have had something to say, or the time to say it. Needless to explain to anyone reading, I'm a terrible juggler, although that truth has never prevented me from trying to accomplish five or ten things at one time. Atleast there is somewhere in the range of 3 to 13 minutes of happiness in the news today; nothing like studies such as these to make us all feel more normal.

A Deeper Understanding of Truth
Switching gears a little bit. A friend of mine asked me a very basic question the other day and the thoughts/answer that came to me struck a nerve. His question: the gift of free agency, what is it?. A basic question, from a religious/philosophical standpoint, something I have studied and discussed much; in fact, you may have already chosen your answer. However, I do my best to ignore the given, the expected, the accepted, the status quo of the mind.

There Are So Many Ways To Answer
An inspired man plainly said, "I want the liberty of thinking and believing as I please." Of course, the easiest answer is the one which requires no liberty of thought. It's the search for the answer, the search enlarges the mind and provides some of the most fulfilling kind of happiness.

If you haven't tried Google Reader, and you want a never ending supply of updated news, try it out; it appears to be an excellent source for our search for happiness. Here are some recent finds such as longer life for some short people. Hey Babe, you might have a longer time to search for happiness, doesn't that make you happy?

Check this one out - All I can say is what the fat? I'm happy for this article, because I have a hard time getting people to believe me, even after they have read the hundred plus pages of my book. I'm happy that individuals are studying the cold, fat facts. Although, I wouldn't mind getting published before these damn articles I read about my Fatties make my conclusions less pertinent. Fatties out there, I feel your love handles.

And how about this - I would imagine I know some girls that would disagree with this article.

Compared with sexually harassed workers, employees on the receiving end of raging-boss behaviors and other forms of workplace aggression reported lower overall well-being, less job satisfaction and less satisfaction with their bosses; they were also more likely to quit their jobs.

While some might point to this as another sign of the emasculation of American culture, I'm pleased with the recognition that the workplace should no longer be a haven for the Alpha-holes among us.