Writing Space

I recently read a blog post that talked about writing space. I’d never really put much thought into where I did my writing until that post. I guess I just choose what feels most comfortable to me at the time that I choose to write, and tonight it seems I’ve chosen to sit next to a 44′ picture window while it thunderstorms out. If any of you have ever seen a thunderstorm from the mid-west part of America, you’ll know what vibes are around right now. For those who don’t know about the thunderstorms in the mid-west, you need to know that it’s constant lightning. I don’t mind thunder, I actually enjoy it. So what did I do when I heart the first roll of thunder? I opened up my document program and began typing, almost as if that was the only time that I could write. I suppose, I’ve found the best writing space for me.

Of course, I can’t have my thunderstorms all the time (though, according to family, there have been more thunderstorms here than there usually are on average). Where do I choose to write then, when the thunder just isn’t on my side? Well, the couch is usually the first spot, nestled next to one or two of the cats with a latte or a cup of tea. I like it to be quiet when I write, but sometimes I actually put on Mozart or dubstep, depending on my mood. And I always listen to it with headphones, for some reason the noise that comes from my speakers just irritates me when I’m writing. And I don’t always use my laptop for writing, sometimes I need to put pen to paper, and boy do I have quite the collection of pens. Two for each mood I suppose. Got the fine tips, the medium tips, free ink, gel pens, and felt tip pens, all with different grippies and weights, each one is a pleasant color and shape. My notebooks are thick, non spiral, college ruled. Some of them don’t even have lined paper, which I usually use when writing with my fountain pens. I have a lap desk, one of those little cushion things that you rest on your lap and it allows you to have a hard surface to write on.

When do I write the best though? Believe it or not, it’s not when I’m next to a violent thunderstorm or while I’m sipping the Earl Grey, it’s actually when I’m out and about. Back in NY I used to have to wait at the local grocery store before my shift at work. I had to wait because my boyfriend worked a few hours before me and my job was too far away to be able to walk to. I had invested in a Thinkpad, which I swore would be used to further my writing (and so far it has)  and I purchased a nice laptop bag for it. I began to settle into a routine. My boyfriend drops me off at the grocery store, I wander around looking for something to quench my thirst (usually a pomegranate drink), I buy a slice of pizza or pack of sushi then I proceed to sit at an empty booth in the cafe and set up my laptop. This was during the busiest part of the day, when people are transitioning between their lunch breaks and the rest of their shift, or just getting off of their shift and stopping in for lunch. Sometimes I would even see people conduct small meetings at one of the round tables. I guess it’s convenient, there’s plenty of food and drinks, and you can sit there for as long as you like and just keep refilling your soda cup. For some reason, this is where I did my best writing.

At the time that I began doing this, I was just finishing up a round of NaNoWriMo and was jumping into the editing portion of it. I was always in the zone during this time and I would over shoot my word count, or re write a portion of the NaNo and create so much flow that I then had to either edit, delete or create new chapters to make it all fit. It wasn’t the food or the pomegranate drinks that kept me in the game, it was the hustle and bustle. Something about the environment, about being around people who were focused, kept me focused that much more. And maybe a little was my anxiety too, I didn’t want to be bothered by anybody that might want to talk, so I would put on the headphones and create my own space at that booth. The vague smell of smoked chicken and ribs, coffee and pizza dough helped to comfort me as well. I happen to like food, especially pizza, smoked meat and coffee. Being surrounded by my comfort foods helped quite a bit, and I bet if there was a candle to make my house smell like those  three, I might buy just one to see if it was worth it. I can’t keep my house smelling like that all the time, it’s expensive to smoke meat all the time. So the post I saw today got me thinking. What do other people do to create their own writing space? Do you have a special place you like to go, or sit? Or a special snack to fuel your brain as it hatches ideas? Perhaps a certain candle you light? I’d love to hear about your writing  ‘ritual’.




What Is The Meaning Behind “The Indigo Way”?

Since I was little I remember thinking way outside of the box. The first instance of this that I remember is when I first learned of Ancient Egypt. I was told that they didn’t have money then, the ancients didn’t deal in coin but instead had a barter system. Almost everyone farmed on a large scale or a small scale. The jobs provided were those that did something for the people, rather than something for the individual. I remember very clearly asking my dad why we were not a part of that system. I understand now why, I mean how many loaves of bread would you have to make in order to trade for an Iphone? And how many wooden chairs can get you a house? The things that we value have grown in value, from small houses that were just what a family needed to houses that are much too large for that family and you have to fill the extra rooms with decorations and electronics. The cars we own are no longer to get us from point A to point B, they are to be our homes away from homes, some even have TV’s or wifi in them. Money is needed for these things. Even the laptop I’m using to write this on now costed money, and I’m sure that I couldn’t have  offered anything to barter to get it.

Since I was little, I couldn’t understand why people fought over land, or resources. “Just share them.” I thought. Why do I have to have permission to cross a boarder into another country. I didn’t see a line on the ground. I didn’t ask to be born an American. So why on Earth do I need to pay all of this money and prove that I’m first a citizen of America, and then prove to the people guarding the boarder that I’m a citizen using the passport I just paid to get, just to go see the Niagra Falls? It’s not even like I live on a separate chunk of land, it’s connected and I still have to prove I am who I say I am! The same goes for moving within the country. Sure, I’m free to pack up and move anytime I want, but if I want to drive, own a house, vote or get things like medical insurance or a library card, I have to prove I’m a citizen of that state. Why? I’m still American, why do I have to be a citizen of this state too? What if I want to move from state to state but also visit the library and check out some books while I’m passing through? The law states that I have to do these things and I never could understand this.

From a young age I have questioned such things. I’ve always wondered why the world was the way it was if it makes no sense. Perhaps there are those who it does make since to, but people like me don’t fall into that category. People like me are what are being referred to as Indigo’s. We aren’t from this time, we don’t conform to the current system. We are here to make a difference.

It is my belief that there are so many of us here today, and there are so many who are discovering their true calling and it’s happening at much quicker rates, because the world is getting ready for a massive change. Our society, weather or not it’s in our life time, will become one that helps the people rather than the few. We are here to make the changes necessary for everyone to become happy and healthy and that is why so many of us are less and less afraid to be who we are truly.  There was a time when I wouldn’t say out loud that I am an empath. I would know things, and someone would ask me how I knew, and I’d shrug and  say “I don’t know.” That’s not a lie, really, I don’t know how I know things, but I know why I know things. I know things because I felt them.

So The Indigo Way  is just a blog from an Indigo’s point of view. It’s me expressing my thoughts and feelings in words, sharing them with like minded people, and introducing them to those who might feel the same, but not know exactly what it is. It’s the Indigo way of life. The Indigo path. And I’ll tell you that it’ll be different for each and every one of us. The only thing that is true for all of us is that we want peace and happiness, knowledge and health but most of all acceptance. We are all here to make the world a better place and to heal this Earth.

If you are interested in learning about Indigo’s I suggest you read about  Nancy Ann Tappe, Jan Tober, and Lee Carroll. You can also look up the term “Indigo Child”. There are documentaries, books, blogs and videos about the topic. I hope that you find everything that you are looking for, and with that you can gain peace of mind and happiness.

Friends Are Forever (?)

“Friendship … is born at the moment when one man says to another “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .”
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Every once in a while I find myself going through old pictures, remembering the time this or that happened and at first I get a laugh out of it but it always takes on a darker life in my mind. Those pictures almost always have someone in them that I no longer have in them. Today is one of those days, I’m sad to say. I never even really know how it happens until after I’m already feeling myself become upset. Today it was the birthday notification of someone I’m only ‘facebook friends’ with. I’m not even sure why I allowed that to happen in the first place, maybe I just wanted to know that she was okay and that the door was still open, even if I know I don’t want her to walk through that door back into my life. Maybe I’m just torturing myself. She’s now best friends with someone I grew up with, someone who was considered my very best friend for more than ten years. Someone I told everything to. Funny thing is, both girls were that to me at some point. Once the old best friend met the new best friend (and both were still my best friends) things started to change. I found that the old best friend was talking horribly about me behind my back to my new best friend. I have a zero tolerance policy, so that ended that. New best friend never really talked horribly about me, it was her actions that hurt but unfortunately those actions were always easy for me to forgive because I would always hold a decent amount of guilt about my own actions and it was easy enough to say “most of that was my fault anyway.” Not anymore. Now neither of them are my friends, and they spend all of their time together. Of  all the friends I made in grade school up through high school, I have one very good friend. Almost every single one of them ended up betraying me, and those who didn’t just fell off the planet so to speak. And after that, I’ve only made a hand full of good friends that I can still call good friends.

“Why did you do all this for me?’ he asked. ‘I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.’ ‘You have been my friend,’ replied Charlotte. ‘That in itself is a tremendous thing.”
― E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web

But what is it about this type of relationship that makes it so hard to handle when things go wrong? It’s different from person to person, but in my case I’ve found that most of them just can’t understand where I’m coming from. Lets take this last friendship as an example. I’m growing, mentally and physically. My body is starting to crave health, and Earth. I want veggies over steak most of the time, I want to walk in nature rather than sit down and watch TV. I want to read and write instead of play video games, and I no longer enjoy window shopping unless it’s to do something with my grandmother. (It’s mostly talking rather than shopping anyway.) My friendships start failing once I progress to a new rung on the growth ladder. I’m leaving them behind. And in a lot of ways, that scares them. They can’t follow, or are unwilling to follow, and they do something to show how scared they are. They create drama, find a new friend, just stop talking to me, ect. There’s nothing I can do to stop it because I’m not going to give up on my self growth, and they aren’t going to put up with their crazy friend that they no longer have anything in common with.

The biggest lesson that I have learned since high school is that it’s okay to lose friends. You don’t have to have 300 friends, in fact you can’t actually have that many real friends. Where I sit today, I can count my good friends on one hand, and I’m okay with that. And they don’t even need to ask who they are, they know. So how do you know if your friends are real friends?

My first clue that I had a real friend was when she got a new boyfriend and started forgetting about me. I got upset, not understanding that this was expected. This was her first boyfriend, and she had been there through my first boyfriend. We didn’t talk (because I refused to) until she got into a car accident and I found out a month later through her mother. I called her up and yelled at her about how much of an asshole she was for not telling me, and asked her if she was okay. She’s fine she tells me, and she’s sorry also. We went back to normal, honestly and completely. That was our first and only fight in just about fifteen years. We knew we were both being silly and we knew we both loved each other.

The second clue was when one of my friends moved away. I never thought I could have a long distance relationship. She had been my roommate for a while and I’d grown to feel like she was a sister to me, so her moving was like losing a part of my family. I cried the night she left after I came home from work, which she had dropped me off at. I sat in her room, staring at all of the books she had left me (both avid readers here) and cried with my bottle of wine in hand. Today? We actually have an appointment to skype at some point. We write letters and send packages when we have the money for things, and we tell each other everything still. I’ve no doubt in my mind that I’ll see her again someday, and I know for a fact that it’ll be as if we weren’t apart at all.

My third clue was when I had forgotten to keep up on the relationship with a friend (due to a very hectic work life), and instead of becoming insecure and upset, she just gently reached out to me asking me to go see a movie with her. I accepted, it was a Guillermo Del Toro movie, which happens to be one of my favorite types of movies. We both enjoyed it, and I realized that night that it was possible to have friends who lived their lives and allowed you to live your life while understanding that we won’t be in constant contact. The amount of love is still there, and I owe her a book that I didn’t end up having the money to get her. She’d never hold it against me though.

I’d say that it’s going to be hard to recognize your good friends from the not so good ones, but it’s an important thing to be able to do. It saves you from chasing the ones that never really wanted much to do with you, they were just bored or craved drama. It’ll save you the heartache when you’re a few years down the road and looking back at old pictures. This morning was the first time I looked at old pictures and instead of feeling my heart break over again, I felt relief that I was no longer caught up in the web of bad friends. Friendship really is forever, but it takes a true friend to create that bond. No matter how much you put into it, if they are not true friends, it will not last.

My only suggestion is this. Be one hundred percent true to yourself. If you don’t like something, you have to speak up and say so. If you’re feeling a way about something someone else has done, you have to tell them, and if they are true to your friendship, things will turn out alright. No relationship is perfect. There will be arguments or debates, and weeks to months of no talking. But the one thing you must always remember is that during these times, they will not try to hurt you by calling you names, talking behind your back, sharing your secrets or playing on your insecurities. They will still show respect and love or they will walk away before hurting you. These are your true friends, those that will grow with you and understand you.

“Don’t  walk in front of me… I may not follow
Don’t walk behind me… I may not lead
Walk beside me… just be my friend”
― Albert Camus

When The Tornado Sirens Wail

Storm rolling in 8.26.16 Indiana

Within the chaos I find peace while the rest of the town holds it’s breath. As the wind blows with great speed, I feel anchored like a mountain. As the hail pelts down upon the hard roof, I imagine the ice pellets bouncing off and melting quickly on the warm ground, mortal after all. At the mercy of Mother Nature, I know that if a cyclone were to form, all I could do is hold my cat tight and cower in the bathroom. We are all at the mercy of the changing winds and falling rain but I welcome this reminder that I am not God. The Earth sends out these reminders day after day, and you hear the anger in the thunder and see the warnings in the lightning. Must we always forget that we are just pawns? Must we always claim to own that which we cannot control? Or might we one day wake up and learn to live in peace with the nature around us….I feel that I might only be dreaming of a perfect world.

The lit candle

I’ve been struggling all day. It was my first (and last) day at a fast food restaurant that I was originally optimistic about. It didn’t take long for the red flags to pile up however. The morning crew wasn’t even ready for me, I had no uniform and they didn’t have one for me, so I ended up in a shed trying to help find one of “the old ones”. And within the first hour, I was ringing by myself with no help when I needed it because the person training me was running between me and the drive thru. There were a few health safety flags that went up (like the cashier touching hash browns with no gloves and the lack of hand washing regulations). I was already stressed, not because it was busy (my previous jobs were far busier) but because I was here for training but was being treated as a regular employee. The big red flags were regarding the breaks, which I was told they don’t offer. Yet there I stood, watching two shift leaders rotate their breaks.

There’s plenty more but I think maybe my point is out there, plain and simple. I’m not cut out for low level food service, at least not poorly  managed food service. My moral compass is a bit too strong and the real thing that tipped me over the edge was the warning that I can’t loiter before or after my shift. Well, apparently ordering a meal and sitting down to eat is loitering because the assistant manager watched me and my boyfriend eat after my shift, and he kept checking the time. This place doesn’t treat you like a valued employee, but more of like someone they own. Nobody had bothered telling me that I can’t have my hair in a pony tail, or braid, but it must be in a bun (which my hair is too fine and thin to keep itself in). Just like I can’t wear light blue nail polish, it must be one of their approved colors. I didn’t get the job to be controlled, but at the very least they should have told me during orientation so that I knew before I walked in and got yelled at.

So I spend the rest of the day dealing with the anxiety of what do I do now? Do I quit or do I push through, ignore the safety and health violations that are so clear, and all of the other red flags? I just cant do that, I’m not the type who can handle seeing an ungloved hand in a strangers food or a floor drain overflowing and nobody doing anything about it. So by the time my dad got home, I was having a bit of an issue deciding, and my boyfriend and I had a heart to heart, and I was pretty emotional. The first thing my dad did was light a candle. He sits down, let’s me vent, then says “Hey, if it doesn’t work then it doesn’t work. That’s okay.” Up to this point I hadn’t realized, but my anxiety was coming from not wanting to disappoint him. I cried. We talked, he shared his experiences with me and I realized that its okay to not be cut out for food service. I want a customer service job. One where my job matters, not one where I have to basically be the slave, doing all of the lobby work while everyone else stands behind the counter just talking.

I felt better, and had pretty much made up my mind that I would quit after my next shift the next day. I got ready for bed knowing I would have to get as much sleep as possible because I had to wake up and eat a big meal. I went to blow out the candle my dad had lit and realized that he might have actually lit it to help calm me. He did, after all, send me a relaxation care package for Christmas one year. I love my dad.

And I love candles. And at the moment that I blew it out I was able to calm down. I use a candle flame (or incense smoke) to meditate, so this isn’t surprising that it would calm me. But its the appreciation for such a small thing that hit me. I’m over here all focused on the heavy things that cause my anxiety to flair, when I’ve got it so good right now. I’m trying to get out of this cycle of anxiety and depression, but I’m eager to change the world now. I know, even if I don’t always remember, that I cannot pour from a cup which is already empty. In order for me (and you) to change this world, we must first fill our cups. Preferably with earl grey, but you can chose a different beverage, or even soup! I have to heal myself first, and allowing my job to cause me so much stress just won’t do. I spent all of yesterday in a panic, putting in applications to places that I either already had or that are now hiring. I searched online for jobs, looked for at home jobs (I was unaware that you could do some of them without a degree) and rode my bike around putting in paper applications to mom and pop shops.

I’m okay. I can calm down now, and I know that I can be happy, despite my current situation.

For anyone who feel hopeless, I recommend taking a second to heal yourself. For me, I am able to look for other work, and I am lucky for that. But for those who don’t have that opportunity, I suggest finding your lit candle. It might be in a warm bath with Epsom salts, or cuddled up on the sofa with your dog. I struggled for so long before I found out hose too heal, and I’m clearly not the best at it. But this is why I encourage you to try. To know your own self worth, because you are beautiful and intelligent and strong. Every person on this Earth is worth it, and every person deserves their shred of peace. I encourage you to search within for that peace because sometimes the outside world is too dark, too cold and too heartless for those who seek happiness. Only then can we all begin to heal this world, and only then can we bring peace to those around us.

What is happiness anyway?

“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.”
Mahatma Gandhi


Happiness is something that I’ve always struggled to recognize. Having come from a troubled childhood, I was hardly shown the path to true happiness. In fact, the happiest times that I can remember were when I could go off and do my own thing (usually in the woods) far away from the people I lived with. During the times that I had my dad in my life, I also was happy, because he understood me. Unfortunately, relying on another to bring you happiness doesn’t work. I can’t always have my dad around, I know that one day he will pass away and what then? Will I live the rest of my life in a dark and lonely place? Will I refuse to turn on the lights or open a book? Luckily, I learned from my dad that happiness isn’t something you can seek out in others. It’s something you find, and it can come from anywhere.

When I was young, I lived in North Carolina. (Sunnyview NC I think.) Behind our house, which was on a hill, there was a beautiful wood. I would find myself wandering around by myself, and I couldn’t help but to get lost. I don’t mean that I got lost literally, I mean that hours would go by and yet I craved for more time to spend with the trees. This is a place that I still dream of, so much so that I had to write something to get my mind back to that place. I long for those trees, specifically the one that has the hump that I used to sit on. I have yet to find a tree that grew just for me to nap upon. I remember that as being the first place that I was truly happy, and that’s including the massive sunflower patch behind our townhouse in (Hendersonville) North Carolina. For the first time, I was alone and happy. Whatever happened to that?

What is happiness, anyway? Is it a feeling or a state of mind? Is it something that you can find or is it something that you create? I think it might differ between each person. For me, for a long time, it was something I chased and dreamed about. It was something that I might never get if I were to stay in my mom’s house. It was something that I didn’t deserve because according to her I was a bad child. I was made to feel as if I didn’t deserve the things that a normal child deserves. I was the reason I was so miserable. At such a young age, how could I have known that this was untrue? It wasn’t until my teen years that I began to realize how wrong my mother was, and how much I did deserve. Even now I have a problem accepting gifts from people. I still have that lingering feeling that I don’t deserve what they have to give. I think this is where happiness is vital in the quest to repair the damage done to me as a kid. It’s something I rarely experienced.

I find now that I usually catch myself being happy. (Oh no! I’m happy again!) It’s still a strange feeling to me, and to some that might make them sad. It might take away a little of their own happiness, but it doesn’t need to. I’m happy that I can actually feel this feeling. I can actually be in this state of mind. For so long I was afraid to be happy. I resisted the thought, which made it worse. Whenever someone told me that I was afraid to be happy I would laugh at them. Of course I’m not afraid to be happy, I long for it, so why would I be afraid of it? Silly me right? Of course I was afraid of it, because every ounce of happiness I had ever had would be stolen away from me by my own mother through my entire childhood. Even today she tries to whittle a little away at a time, but I’m wise to her games now. The unfortunate thing about it is that she isn’t aware of her own state of mind. She’s unaware that those little bombs that she plants are designed to steal the other person’s happiness away. That’s how she’s always gotten her happiness because her mom was worse than she.

Which means that happiness can’t be gained. It can’t be stolen or taken thus it cannot be fought for. We are all fighting for this thing, this elusive thing. If only we could catch it, but it can’t be caught either. It can’t be obtained in any way because (and listen closely, this is important) it’s already there. 

The entire time I lived with my mom I had happiness. Lets set the scene. I’m doing whatever it is I’m doing, say reading. My mom comes in and asks a question and I respond without looking at her (I can’t lose my spot on the page after all) and she then gets angry. Suddenly she’s slamming my door closed and bitching up a storm in the hallway. I keep myself occupied with my book which pisses her off further, but I know if I confront the situation it’ll get worse anyway. So I keep on reading. What happens next is where I learned my lesson. If I wouldn’t bring the fight to her, she would bring it to me. Her source of false happiness was to take mine from me, and since I am clearly happy in my room reading, she has no choice but to try to take it. So in comes my mom with her bitch storm and allegations. Fight. Always a fight, no matter how long I try to withhold myself from it, she would pick and pick until I couldn’t hold out anymore. My stone walls were only so thick. That’s all fine and dandy, we are only human after-all and sometimes our tops blow. But had I known back then that even then she couldn’t take my happiness from me, maybe things might have effected me less. We’d fight, and I’d come back to my room, to my book that lay face down and waiting, but my temperature was too high. I couldn’t calm down after the blow out, and so I didn’t pick that book back up for a while. I would roll the fight over in my mind, re-play and try to figure out what I had done so wrong to piss my mother off. She had won. She was now sitting in her bedroom watching Wheel of Fortune and I was hot headed on my bed trying to make sense of the world and berating myself for reacting to her crap. Had I known that if I had just picked that book back up and not let her negativity take over, I would have been happy yet again, like I originally was while reading the book in the first place.

There’s no sense in berating myself about all of this now, I can’t change it. But I can still learn from it, and I have. I’ve learned when to recognize when my mom is fishing for feelings she can play off of, and I’ve learned to not care. That’s the trick. 

You’re in the drive through and someone behind you honks at you even though you can’t move up in line, and then you get the wrong order and you’ve already had a bad day so all you wanted were some God damn’d french fries. You storm into the place with bag in hand, and yell that you need the proper order and your fries are cold. God damn it the fries are cold!!! You’re head’s so hot that the employees can see the steam rising, but you’ve just treated them like garbage so they take their sweet time which only makes you more angry. You see this cycle that’s forming? Rewind.

You’re in line after having a horrible day and you want some french fried goodness in your tummy. So you pull into the McDanks and ask for a large fry. The guy behind you is also impatient about getting his fries. (Damnit all you need in life is a bunch of fries!) But what can you do, really? Not that much. But you’re having quite a shit day and the fella behind you might be as well. You pull up to pay for those delicious potato sticks and decide to pay for the poor fella behind you who is too anxious to get his fries. Instead of giving you the wrong order, you end up with extra fries because you were nice enough to pay for the asshat that’s in the car behind you. The McDanks thanks you because they get to deliver good news, the guy behind you is happy because he saved a buck, you’ve got extra fries and your day has turned around a little. Maybe it’ll be a good day after all. I’ve seen this happen many times actually. I worked in a Dunkin Donuts, and almost every Friday there was a pay it forward in our drive through. People pull up with frowns and leave with a smile having paid for someone else’s coffee.

Now, I’m not saying that when you’re having a bad day you should go buy someone else’s fries. That can get to be expensive and there’s not guarantee that the employee will give you that extra fry. But happiness, and love, are actually free. Say you’re in line this time, inside the restaurant, and you’re having a horrible day and the kid with his mother behind you is just screaming. He also wants his french fries but he hates standing in line. What can you do? Turn and yell back? Bottle it in and get progressively more and more pissed off? Or maybe turn to the kid and say what everyone in line is thinking. “Hey, I want my fries too. Aren’t they so good?” He’ll probably be taken aback (most kids would be anyway) and stop crying long enough to evaluate the situation. During that time we can throw another question his way. “So, have you ever tried dipping them in barbecue sauce, like you do with your nuggets? It’s actually really good.”  At this point, you’ve probably stopped the melt down that was about to happen, and he’s probably going to answer you (provided he’s not actually a spoiled brat, In which case run to the nearest bar and grab a shot of whiskey). Mom’s happy, the employees are happy, you’re happy and the kid is happy and probably talking your ear off (or hiding behind mom because he’s actually shy. Go figure!) That was free and it ate up enough time that you’re now next in line! Hurrah!

My point is that happiness is always there, it’s just hidden in your perspective. You can choose to react negatively, or you can choose to react in a positive manner. I promise that if you make the latter the habit, you’ll find happiness in everything that you do. But don’t beat yourself up over your mistakes. They happen to everyone and nobody can do it 100% of the time. I’m over here just going on and on about being happy and how to do it but I’m going to be the first to tell you that the negative reaction is what you’re likely to get from me if you’re honking at me in a drive through. But I’ll carry that on, and I’ve done so in the past. I’m angry about this guy being an ass in the drive through, I decide I don’t care and later on when I am in the grocery store and see someone wandering up the aisle looking miserable, I shoot them a genuine smile. Most people will give me one back, and if I happen to see them later in the store, they are still wearing it.

Happiness begins with a smile.

So what is happiness to you?


Just a small bit of happiness I found yesterday at the Indianapolis Canal