Poet Jane Kenyon once wrote, “Suddenly, I understand that I am happy” (“The Suitor,” from Otherwise: New and Selected Poems, Graywolf Press, 1997). Recently I, too, learned something deeply spiritual about understanding happiness.
A few years ago, a new job I’d held for about a year unexpectedly ended. At first the freedom and time available to me after leaving this position were liberating. But soon it became a short course in mid-life anxiety. I needed a job. Who was going to hire me at this juncture in my life? Where was I supposed to get money? Even more insidious, I had to admit that for a variety of confusing reasons, my pride had been hurt.
I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly ego-driven person who had a “problem” with pride. But I found myself struggling mightily with a wounded sense of ego and at odds with the very individuals in my life whom I held dearest. I felt like a puppet being made to dance some strange jig by an awful puppeteer. But I’ll never forget the summer day I decided to sit in a chair in the yard below a maple tree and give myself permission to simply listen.
