I’m a smiler.  I smile at people I’m happy to see, I smile at people I don’t know; it’s my natural reaction to a face.  In grade school I hated being a smiler.  I was shy and thought I smiled through awkwardness. Maybe that’s true, but whether it became a habit or I grew into my innate smiley-ness, I smile with confidence now.  I still get a little embarrassed when someone greets me back with, “Hi, Smiley!”, but mostly smiling brings me good things, like positive relationships with people -- long-term or seconds-long -- and a little glimmer of cheer for myself.  

Your facial expression contributes to your mood, so smile at yourself when you need a boost.  Paying attention to subtle shifts in your mood is a good practice; when you notice yourself drifting toward the blues, you can catch yourself before you get too deep.  Maybe you need a smile; maybe you need lunch!  

Try smiling at that grumpy cashier or bored mail carrier just to see what happens.  Don’t worry if they don’t return your smile; you can be sure they benefited from your warmth even if they are too tired/sad/distracted to smile back.

By the way, I checked into the adage that it takes a certain number of muscles to smile, and a lot more muscles to frown, so we should smile more because it’s easier.  The first part is not true; apparently we use nearly the same number of muscles for either expression.  The conclusion is correct though, so save yourself some effort and smile!

Love,

Smiley

Laundry List

It's 9:45PM and I'm folding laundry, trying not to grit my teeth against the job.  A few more mindless tasks are waiting to be done before I can tuck myself in for the night:  The dog needs to go out, my teeth need brushing, and a few bills need to be paid. So I sort the mail, let the dog back in, and stand in front of the sink wondering if I can risk skipping the floss tonight. 

Mundane tasks and everyday chores stand in our way every day.  Every hour, even.  And we can't skip flossing every night! So how to get over that feeling of excruciating boredom when faced with a mountain of socks to match?  What can we do to feel, not joy, but at least acceptance, when we pull out the skillet to make dinner AGAIN?

Wish I had an answer for you, but I don't.  I have an idea to try out, though:  All day tomorrow, I will use those moments of dullness to meditate.  I won't sit cross-legged with my thumb and index finger forming a circle, and I won't even close my eyes.  I will breathe deeply and allow my mind to be quiet for those few minutes.  I will pay attention to the smell of the parsley I chop, and the sound of the onions falling in to the hot oil.  I will look closely at the beautiful tree in my backyard as I wait for the dog to finish up, and I will marvel at its magnificence (too much? Okay, maybe I'll lean against its majestic trunk.  It's a really nice tree!) The point being that if I need to concentrate on a task, I will do so mindfully; if the job is mindless, I will give my mind a real break, and not waste the time with my inner complaints.  I'll let you know how it works out.