I'm on July in the Happiness Project - in fact, I've just finished it. July was a hard month for Gretchen Rubin; she was in a bad mood and everyone in her family was in a bad mood. She thought consciously about the resolutions she'd set for herself to handle parenting and family conflict issues -- and the tools she'd developed for coping with these issues - and she just ignored them. That's a very familiar feeling .. she recovered. But it shows that there are difficulties, even limits, to acquiring new behavior patterns, something any dieter could tell you.
In August she decides to read catastrophe memoirs, in part because they lend a true sense of perspective to an ordinarily very fortunate life. She also talks about giving something up: as counterintuitive as that seems, giving something up seems to also foster happiness. She also suggests imitating a spiritual master. This is one of the places in the book where she reprints posts made on her blog by followers. Some of what they said about the spiritual masters who informed their thinking was surprising and fun - Viktor Frankl was an obvious choice but Dan Savage, the sex columnist, was another surprising choice.
One day her husband asks her just how many books about Therese of Lisieux she's going to read, and after counting how many she already owns (17 plus) she realizes that St. Therese, the Little Flower, is the spiritual master she has been most influenced by and in fact has greatly, if indirectly, influenced her concept for her personal happiness project: one that will take place "in situ," that is, without disrupting her work or her family life and one that will emphasize small but meaningful changes that will be almost entirely internal.
By this time, I find myself feeling a grudging respect for Gretchen Rubin. I'm not going to read St. Therese's memoir, but I do see how it's a kind of blueprint for Rubin's own Happiness Project and how it may have influenced her to want to make a happiness project.
Rubin seems to me to be clearly not the sort of person who might have written Jesus and the Weather as a young person. But her candor in assessing the strengths, success and failure of her personal happiness project is charming.
A week or two ago, I found myself thinking, Rubin reminds me of Ann Landers. That notion seems surprising, but there is a similar quality of acceptance and practicality in both authors.
For instance, Rubin doesn't try to pretend that money isn't linked to happiness. One wants to be equal to one's peers and, she writes, relative wealth is not as important as having approximately what one's peers have. Money can't buy you happiness but it can solve some problems that, by being resolved, can promote happiness. She's forthright about the fact that acquiring things can make you feel good (she says because that feeling of gaining something feels like the growth that, it turns out, is a very important component in happiness).
She emphasizes having fun several times, and talks about different ways of having fun. She points out very importantly, that different people have fun different ways and it doesn't count as fun if it's not something you enjoy - even if you think that you should.
In September, Rubin wrote a novel. I found this amazing. It required such a large commitment of time, but she did it anyway (fast, no editing). She undertook this big project in the midst of the big project of the Happiness Project in the midst of her busy life as wife, mother, blogger.
To anyone, I would recommend reading the February chapter, in which she talks the small, practical steps she takes as part of improving her relationship with her husband. Part of her project is a "Week of Extreme Nice". It doesn't sound grand, does it (but a little intriguing, no?). The point is this: it's not really complicated; anyone can do it; it works and it's a fine illustration of how you can improve the emotional tenor of your life using the kind of tools Rubin uses: make a plan and implement it. (I have to say that making plans, implementing them, and evaluating the implementation is a big part of what she does; although the very idea of doing that, the way that she does it, doesn't really appeal to me, the results do.)
She's wonderfully practical. She begins her Happiness Project, in January, by resolving to go to bed earlier, and by cleaning out closets. Many people cannot begin something new unless they've uncluttered their mind by uncluttering their closets. It's not romantic, or dramatic, but it's effective.
Having finished the book, I have to say that it contains a lot of wisdom about how we should live now. I also have to say that it was a bit of a slog, and I consider that a problem. I wonder if finding another way to organize the experiences would have been better.
Another problem that I see is that using the diary like structure, arranged in months, was terribly clunky. It seemed to me that although Rubin experienced growth, and had tons of wisdom to share, she didn't quite succeed in making her experience into a shapely story.
And her quotations - Rubin loves quotations and she peppers her prose with them. I think it slows down the action. I also think it creates interest but it's overused. Rubin seems to me to be both a discreet and honest writer, which stands in the way of shaping an exciting narrative.
And I think it's a challenge for someone as attuned to modest virtues as Gretchen Rubin, someone who admires Dr. Johnson and Therese of Lisieux as much as she does, to write a narrative as entertaining as, say, Blood, Bones and Butter (by Gabrielle Hamilton). Rubin wouldn't make, I'd guess, the same choices as Hamilton. While both authors are good writers, the choices that Hamilton did make, good, bad, and indifferent, provide the narrative drive and spice of her account. She gets angry, and has snarky, sarcastic, critical and contemptuous thoughts, which she shares with us and we enjoy them and perhaps also enjoy some vicarious thrill. Rubin models self-control and restraint (advocating good manners, for instance, although not for their own virtue but because of how they can help us to be happier) and it's just not as interesting as Hamilton's bad girl blues.
Having said that, what Dr. Johnson, Gretchen Rubin, and people I know have in common is a sincere, unpretentious desire to know how to live, ethically, and fulfill themselves at the same time. Both Hamilton and Rubin offer answers and some of the same answers (work hard; get things done; make things; make a difference; do what needs doing) but Rubin's approach will resonate more intimately with many of those in my world. Meanwhile, I'm a little astounded by this fact: Dr. Johnson may be dull, may even be embarrassing but I see that his influence continues to pervade how we live now. (God, I should have paid more attention when we were reading Rasselas!)
In August she decides to read catastrophe memoirs, in part because they lend a true sense of perspective to an ordinarily very fortunate life. She also talks about giving something up: as counterintuitive as that seems, giving something up seems to also foster happiness. She also suggests imitating a spiritual master. This is one of the places in the book where she reprints posts made on her blog by followers. Some of what they said about the spiritual masters who informed their thinking was surprising and fun - Viktor Frankl was an obvious choice but Dan Savage, the sex columnist, was another surprising choice.
One day her husband asks her just how many books about Therese of Lisieux she's going to read, and after counting how many she already owns (17 plus) she realizes that St. Therese, the Little Flower, is the spiritual master she has been most influenced by and in fact has greatly, if indirectly, influenced her concept for her personal happiness project: one that will take place "in situ," that is, without disrupting her work or her family life and one that will emphasize small but meaningful changes that will be almost entirely internal.
By this time, I find myself feeling a grudging respect for Gretchen Rubin. I'm not going to read St. Therese's memoir, but I do see how it's a kind of blueprint for Rubin's own Happiness Project and how it may have influenced her to want to make a happiness project.
Rubin seems to me to be clearly not the sort of person who might have written Jesus and the Weather as a young person. But her candor in assessing the strengths, success and failure of her personal happiness project is charming.
A week or two ago, I found myself thinking, Rubin reminds me of Ann Landers. That notion seems surprising, but there is a similar quality of acceptance and practicality in both authors.
For instance, Rubin doesn't try to pretend that money isn't linked to happiness. One wants to be equal to one's peers and, she writes, relative wealth is not as important as having approximately what one's peers have. Money can't buy you happiness but it can solve some problems that, by being resolved, can promote happiness. She's forthright about the fact that acquiring things can make you feel good (she says because that feeling of gaining something feels like the growth that, it turns out, is a very important component in happiness).
She emphasizes having fun several times, and talks about different ways of having fun. She points out very importantly, that different people have fun different ways and it doesn't count as fun if it's not something you enjoy - even if you think that you should.
In September, Rubin wrote a novel. I found this amazing. It required such a large commitment of time, but she did it anyway (fast, no editing). She undertook this big project in the midst of the big project of the Happiness Project in the midst of her busy life as wife, mother, blogger.
To anyone, I would recommend reading the February chapter, in which she talks the small, practical steps she takes as part of improving her relationship with her husband. Part of her project is a "Week of Extreme Nice". It doesn't sound grand, does it (but a little intriguing, no?). The point is this: it's not really complicated; anyone can do it; it works and it's a fine illustration of how you can improve the emotional tenor of your life using the kind of tools Rubin uses: make a plan and implement it. (I have to say that making plans, implementing them, and evaluating the implementation is a big part of what she does; although the very idea of doing that, the way that she does it, doesn't really appeal to me, the results do.)
She's wonderfully practical. She begins her Happiness Project, in January, by resolving to go to bed earlier, and by cleaning out closets. Many people cannot begin something new unless they've uncluttered their mind by uncluttering their closets. It's not romantic, or dramatic, but it's effective.
Having finished the book, I have to say that it contains a lot of wisdom about how we should live now. I also have to say that it was a bit of a slog, and I consider that a problem. I wonder if finding another way to organize the experiences would have been better.
Another problem that I see is that using the diary like structure, arranged in months, was terribly clunky. It seemed to me that although Rubin experienced growth, and had tons of wisdom to share, she didn't quite succeed in making her experience into a shapely story.
And her quotations - Rubin loves quotations and she peppers her prose with them. I think it slows down the action. I also think it creates interest but it's overused. Rubin seems to me to be both a discreet and honest writer, which stands in the way of shaping an exciting narrative.
And I think it's a challenge for someone as attuned to modest virtues as Gretchen Rubin, someone who admires Dr. Johnson and Therese of Lisieux as much as she does, to write a narrative as entertaining as, say, Blood, Bones and Butter (by Gabrielle Hamilton). Rubin wouldn't make, I'd guess, the same choices as Hamilton. While both authors are good writers, the choices that Hamilton did make, good, bad, and indifferent, provide the narrative drive and spice of her account. She gets angry, and has snarky, sarcastic, critical and contemptuous thoughts, which she shares with us and we enjoy them and perhaps also enjoy some vicarious thrill. Rubin models self-control and restraint (advocating good manners, for instance, although not for their own virtue but because of how they can help us to be happier) and it's just not as interesting as Hamilton's bad girl blues.
Having said that, what Dr. Johnson, Gretchen Rubin, and people I know have in common is a sincere, unpretentious desire to know how to live, ethically, and fulfill themselves at the same time. Both Hamilton and Rubin offer answers and some of the same answers (work hard; get things done; make things; make a difference; do what needs doing) but Rubin's approach will resonate more intimately with many of those in my world. Meanwhile, I'm a little astounded by this fact: Dr. Johnson may be dull, may even be embarrassing but I see that his influence continues to pervade how we live now. (God, I should have paid more attention when we were reading Rasselas!)
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