On the chilly Saturday morning, I walked from my car to the YMCA building from the annex parking lot. I couldn’t find parking in the front lot, because of the many youth sports activities going on.
While walking to my Saturday morning step aerobics class, a dad and his young daughter, about 4 years old, were walking up ahead. The cute girl in her pigtails skipped out in front of her dad, who followed behind carrying her “Sweetie” backpack and water bottle. The little girl was skipping up a storm. She was happy. I guessed that she was taking the kids’ ballet class.
The little girl skipped all the way to the YMCA front desk. Her dad held the door open for me after his daughter skipped in. Dad smiled. I smiled back.
When you’re a kid, you skipped for no reason, other than just being so damn happy. There were a few times I remember when I was that happy as a kid, skipping for no reason at all. At some undetermined point in my childhood, I stopped skipping. I suppose that we all did.
Did I stop skipping, because it was no longer cool? Did I stop, because, I wasn’t free to just be me? Because I couldn’t be happy for absolutely no reason at all? I recalled the sadness of most of my childhood.
No, I really didn’t have many skipping moments growing up at home. I’d be 7 years old, having the best time, happy for no reason at all. I knew it would end when my Dad inevitably got mad. That could be at a holiday family gathering. That could be watching my favorite TV show at home. I would inevitably do something wrong. Or not do anything wrong, at all. Dad yelled. He was so angry. All skipping stopped. Happiness stopped. I was in trouble. I was just scared.
I looked at that recurrent experience with my therapist, Lance. He asked if I ever remember being happy as a kid growing up at home. I said, “Yes, but I was always waiting for ‘the other shoe to drop’. I was waiting for Dad to get angry.” So much for happy. No happily ever after, at least for me.
Years ago after completing transformational education training, I attended a happiness seminar in downtown Los Angeles. The seminar leader Richard, whom I’d trained with previously, said that happiness is a choice. Create happiness as a possibility. Yeah, simple. You’re going to have to work at being happy. At least that’s what I took from the Seminar. I have nothing but mad love and respect for Richard. Yet, that kind of happiness in terms of execution left a lot to be desired. Just saying.
Over my years on Planet Earth, I get that any sustained happiness might not always work. Rather, life is yin and yang: Balance the happy and the sad.
Defining purpose, doing what I love creates the possibility of happiness. I love Aikido. I pass on to others what I got from Mizukami Sensei about the art of Aikido and being a good man. I love writing about what I get from Aikido and living life through my trials and tribulations. Maybe, that inspires others to keep the faith, creating their greater-than versions.
Sure, happiness can be fleeting. What if happiness is really just a possible outcome, instead of a prescribed way of being. Just saying. In the greater picture, discovering what you love to do more than life itself, and doing that for as long as you can with all your heart matters. Perhaps, what you love to do creates the possibility of happiness?
In Sunday Aikido class, Sensei Bobby had us practice flow: transitioning to various techniques when someone grabs your wrist with both their hands. We transitioned from nikkyo to kotegaeshi to shihonage from the right and left hand. All are Aikido joint locks.
I practiced my technique. I got into it. I had so much fun. I may have even skipped on the mat. Well, I might have skipped in my mind. I was that happy for no particular reason. I was like that little girl skipping to her ballet class.
Happiness is fine. Yet, it might not be the end-all. Discovering what I love, what gives me purpose, that works. In the bigger picture, happiness arises from doing what I love. So I keep doing that. Just saying.
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