It doesn’t take much to make me happy. A few flowers on the kitchen counter is enough to raise a smile on my face and in my heart. That’s nothing new, but here’s the difference:
BEFORE: I would have bought the hyacinth. I’ve bought one every year for the past few years, about this time of year. I love the sweet fragrance, the scent of spring perfuming my home while spring is months off. In the past, I would have occasionally noticed and enjoyed it, sitting there in its grocery-store plastic pot.
I bought my yearly hyacinth last week while doing the grocery shopping. That's 'normal' but today I found myself doing something abnormal: I walked into the grocery store, into their cleverly positioned spring blossoms display. The primulas in particular caught my attention. I've got an area of dappled sun in my garden where primulas bloom for most of the three warmer seasons.
But of course, February is much too early for buying more, pretty as they are. Those force-bloom babies would curl up and freeze to death in my garden this early in the year. Displays like this, I reminded myself, are a trick! Customers buy spring plants far too early, the poor things succumb, and the customers, poor fools, repeat the purchase when the weather improves. I'm not falling for that money-grubbing trick, I told myself - as I tell myself every year about this time. This year .... myself didn't listen.
I impulsively added a couple pretty primulas to my cart. Back home in the kitchen, I put everything away. I even folded up the reusable bags and tucked them in their box under the counter.
Meanwhile, there sat the two pretty little primulas. There too was the hyacinth from the previous week in its plastic pot. Hmmm....
I got the white platter out of the cupboard (Move over Martha Stewart!) collected December’s defunct Christmas cactus out of the family room, and created this pretty little kitchen-counter garden.
Does this little garden make me happier than my single hyacinth of past years? You bet it does! I’m milking it for all it’s worth, squeezing out all the happiness-juice that I possibly can. It's a feast for the senses.
For example: The colours of the blooms delight my eyes, especially those orangey-red ones. Each time I notice them, I enjoy a smug sense of having created something that gives me great pleasure. Talk about being nice to myself!
The Christmas cactus reminds me of our pleasant, albeit unexpected, holiday-season.
The hyacinth will soon unfold its aromatic delight, and meanwhile I enjoy a delicious anticipation of the morning I walk out into the kitchen and sniff up a flowery note, in addition to the welcoming scent of coffee,
There’s still more to anticipate: When the hyacinth’s heavy blossom droops and dies, the pot will go out to the garden shed to await that spring day when I’ll dig the bulb into the bed with the others I’ve collected over the years. The primulas are destined to join their many-coloured brethren around the feet of the roses.
The funny thing is that when I paused to add a few potted plants to my grocery cart, I had no idea that I was working on this crazy Happiness project. It was just a mad impulse purchase, made against my better judgement.
I expected when I started this Happiness Experiment that I’d attract more things to make me happy.
That’s how the law of attraction works: "What we focus on increases," so they say. Believing that, I did expect to attract more reasons to be happy, but I expected those reasons to show up ‘out of the blue’.
Someone might buy me flowers, for example. I surely did not expect that someone to be me.
Isn’t it odd? All I’ve been doing is deliberately shifting how I feel. Most unexpectedly my behavior has changed as a result, and here I am with a mini garden in my kitchen, a pleasant little reason to feel happy right now.
I suspect that this happens for any feelings that we foster, whether positive or negative. You know which ones I'm working on!
In Happiness, Elaine