Those who prefer their principles over their happiness,
they refuse to be happy outside the conditions they seem to have attached to their happiness.
- Albert Camus
All true happiness, as all that is truly beautiful, can only result from order.
- Benjamin Franklin
These two quotes may seem odd ones to begin a post about the new year. But they actually sum up the things I've been thinking about as this old year has come to a close. Happiness and the search for. Or rather, how to be. And not just be happy. But how to just BE. Be content. Be secure. Be present.
The search for happiness is something that I have struggled with in recent years. Being a wife, mother, and homemaker defined my early adult life. I had found my place in that world. I knew who I was. And I was happy in that life. I've found that as I rebuild who I am as a single, working mother, I'm struggling to find my happy. And I think it has a lot to do with Benjamin Franklin.
I've tried to order something beautiful out of the chaos. All along forgetting that there is beauty in the chaos. Camus reminds us that order, when adhered to blindly and rigidly, can consume our fragile chance for happiness. In other words, you can't order happiness. You can't build a happy life. Happiness is found within ourselves. At the heart of the matter.
All of that said, Benjamin isn't completely wrong either. While you can't let your happiness lie in the hands of the conditions of your life, you certainly shouldn't live a life that isn't centered around the things that make you happy.
I think I've forgotten all of that.
When I started to rebuild my life after my heart was broken, I cast aside parts of myself that made me truly happy. As if I couldn't be who I was before, simply because someone else had changed the rules. Just go back three years on this blog and you will see what I mean. Where are the handmade and local living posts? Where are the traditions and the quiet moments? This blog feels like a chore sometimes because I'm a little lost without certain parts of who I was. Sometimes I throw a wordless picture out because it's all I have to give. Those are the moments that I realize that I'm not as present in our daily life as I should and want to be. I've lost my center. I've lost some of the parts of myself that order my happiness. Those are the things that I've felt the conditions of my current life won't allow. Those are the things I'm taking back.
This year, we made a big move. It was a risk. Six months later, it's still a risk that I'm sorting through. This year, we let some things go. And sometimes you have to let things go to know how much those things mean to you. Like community. We are a family that centers itself on community. It's vital. And we miss that deeply. This year, we grew a little more into who we are as individuals. The boy is a runner. He is loyal and strong. The oldest girl needs quite time in nature if she's going to shine on her stage. That is her center. She found that on a horse. The youngest one is a competitor. She is also timid and loving. They are all so different and all so beautiful.
As for me, I was reminded that I am an artist, visual and written. I was reminded that it's OK to wander. Because not all who wander are lost. I was reminded that it's OK, and good even, to make beautiful things, even if no one else cares. I was reminded that I am allowed to be both the woman I was before and the woman I have become. Most importantly, those three beautiful sprites reminded me, in their growing, that presence today is all I can give them for tomorrow. Presence is what they will carry with them in their memories and their hearts. So in planning our future, I must guard our today.
This coming year, I'm taking back some parts of myself that have been collecting dust on the shelf. I'm returning to a handmade life. My hands need to create. I'm returning to clean eating, living locally, and simplicity. I'm continuing the expectation that my art and my writing matter, if only to myself. I'm continuing the traditions of our home, both new ones that we've come to love, and old ones that have been forgotten. And finally, I'm returning to quiet moments here in this space. Moments that celebrate family and time together. Muddled reflections and poetry. Rain and homemaking. I want to be more present in our daily. The small daily moments that make us.
This is going to be a big year. It's a year that holds change. I can feel it in my fingertips. I honestly don't know where we will be at the end of this year. I don't think I've ever started a year like that. Change has always caught me just a little off guard. But this year, on day one, I can feel it coming. I can feel the leaves rustling in my soul. A gentle breeze is stirring and the wonder of an open heart is calling. This year could take us anywhere. Can you feel it? It's exciting.
Let's begin.
