Joy is a Habit
Throughout her life, my Mother had the annoying habit of always looking on the bright side. As a kid, I attributed this to a kind of simple-mindedness and often took up the job of worrying about things on our family’s behalf. The car was making a weird noise, or the dog was vomiting on the carpet or there wasn’t enough milk in the fridge for breakfast, were all situations that I took seriously enough to be alarmed about and typically wouldn’t shut up about until everyone else was alarmed too.
While I wouldn’t say that I was a joyless child, I was a typical first-born and felt that my Mother’s lack of attention to the world’s myriad problems and perils required me to be extra vigilant. All the while, my mother went merrily about her way, taking pretty good care of us, but refusing to worry too much and reminding me frequently: Honey, don’t sweat the small stuff.
As I got older, I realized that my Mother wasn’t merely acting positive or optimistic for the sake of appearances, she felt optimistic, she was optimistic—deeply optimistic. If we spent hours driving to the coast and it turned out to be cloudy and gray, she would insist that those were the best kinds of days at the beach. Or, if there was the tiniest patch of blue in the gloomy Oregon sky, she assured us that the clouds were going to burn off. Every painful break-up, professional disappointment or existential crisis I experienced was met with my Mother’s predictable response—a perfect mix of deep empathy and startling optimism.
And not just about the small things. Even the really big, really life-altering events in our family’s life—my niece’s terrifying car accident, a devastating house fire and the heartbreaking tragedy of my brother’s death—were all framed by my Mother’s unwavering faith. She was a person who believed deeply—not necessarily that everything was going to be perfect, but that things were unfolding in the way that were meant to. There was a kind of grace in her acceptance of the things she could not control and a consistent ability to live in the light, even during the darkest hours.
In my younger years, I quipped that my mother invented the silver lining and wore rose-colored contact lenses since birth, but I have come to understand that it was much more than that. My Mother’s spiritual positivity—her deep sustained joy—was planted so deeply in her that it existed outside of situational conditions like happiness or pleasure, discomfort or even grief.
How did she get that way? How did she maintain it? In a life that had its share of tragedy and hardship, how did my remarkable Mother maintain her deep capacity for joy—her unwavering faith and gratitude?
These are the questions I think about as I look to another new year without her. As I write, I began to better understand what I think I’ve always known: Joy is not the result of good fortune, good decisions or even of good genes, but rather it is a way of being that is created and maintained by a collection of everyday habits. What are those habits? Well, the truth is that they might be different for every single person, but here is a list of regular things that my Mother said and did that somehow added up to a life of extraordinary joy. As I write them down, I realize just how much of her I carry with me—and although I haven’t yet cured myself of the worry habit, so many of my Mother’s other habits are embedded in my value system and in my daily routine. And to my incredible delight, my own daughter would probably say the same.
Ruth’s Habits for a Joyful Life:
Always talk to strangers.
If you have something that someone in your family loves, give it to them.
If you are moved to cry while you are saying grace, cry.
If you have the choice to be inside or outside, go outside.
When you walk outside, notice the beauty of the day and mention it aloud to anyone who will listen.
Find work that you really love.
If you get the chance to move someplace new, start packing.
Don’t be afraid to get rid of stuff.
If someone invites you on a trip, any trip, go.
The song you are listening to at any given moment is your favorite song.
Going to a restaurant or the movies alone is a sign of confidence.
Two things you should always do when you can: eat ice-cream and dance.
If you love a team, never criticize them. Same with the President.
If you’re taking a walk on the beach, don’t worry about your shoes getting wet.
If you feel like going out to dinner, go out to dinner.
Open the windows in your house, regardless of the season.
If you get lost, trust that there is always someone around who knows the way.
Always stay out past your bedtime for live music.
If someone offers to bring you coffee in bed, stay in bed.
Don’t sweat the small stuff.
