The Pursuit of Happiness

As we are celebrating America's Independence Day, I get reminded of the values deeply anchored in the text of the historic document on display in the Archives in Washington D.C.  "The Pursuit of Happiness" is one of those values that the newly founded nation hopes to achieve.  Oceans were crossed to leave countries and societies that were not providing conditions for the pursuit of happiness.  The Himalayan Kingdom of Bhutan ambitiously established Gross National Happiness as an alternative to Gross National Product to measure a nation's progress.  International conferences have been held on this subject to find out how we can put an economic value to what we understand to be a fundamental human right.  Bhutan is not a member of the G20, the world's leading economic powerhouses, but ranks first when you measure its people's happiness.  They have spiritually been able to figure out that even though we are responsible for our own happiness, it is essential to understand that we are all connected, that our actions define consequences not just in our immediate community, but in our globalized world.  Whether that is figuring out how we can achieve world peace, how to eradicate disease, or achieve women's rights, education for all, or environmental sustainability - we all share this responsibility.  Once we truly understand that, our actions will change to be mindful about how we define and pursue happiness.  I still believe it is a right that everyone should have, but it is our joint effort to make it happen.  It might start with being grateful for what we have, much more difficult to practice than one might think.  Happiness is like concentric circles, it starts with a drop (or a seed that traveled from afar), that ripples the water, moving outward in even bigger circles.  We all feel happy for different reasons, but is based on the very basic needs that all humans share:  a home, a loving family, friends, community, food, health.  In our modern world, we have to add to those:  education, peace, equality, freedom.  That is what holds true to Thomas Jefferson's Pursuit of Happiness in the Declaration of Independence.

My Grandmother - Of Wisdom, Survival and Poetry

Raising children has to be one of the most difficult, challenging, rewarding, hair-greying, important jobs one can ever have.  My grandmother used to say "Small children, small problems - big children, big problems."  How wise she was, born in 1914, raising 4 children during and after the second world war.  When my husband and I had moved around the globe, first as a couple with cat, later as a young family with two sons, I would call my grandmother frequently, checking in on her and trying to explain where I lived, what it is like and how our boys are growing.  She was always amazed how we had relocated, packed up our belongings, calling a new house our home, making friends, all just to pack up again and bloom where we were to be planted.  My grandmother thought it was amazing, daring and difficult.  I reminded her that it was nothing compared to what she had to endure during the war, when my mother was a toddler, who grew up in bomb shelters, no nurturing place for a little girl and a young mother, whose husband worked in a field hospital at the front.  Surfacing from their underground safe haven after each attack, they had to accept over and over again, that they lost all belongings, fleeing to relatives in the countryside, away from the industrial targets attacked.  Being from that generation, my grandmother had never talked about these difficult times in much detail.  She much rather liked to remember funny anecdotes, that surprisingly did occur during those war times as well.  Packing up belongings during the war was not a difficult thing to do, it was not a choice required by our nomadic existence, but rather survival, something you had to do.  The war years went by, and my mother's family settled in East Germany, before the wall was built.  They truly bloomed during these years of peace, not due to wealth and possessions, but due to human relationships, family and friendships, that ran deeper than we can imagine.  Having nothing, starting all over again after the war, was the glue that held people together.  Making sure, there was always an extra, empty plate on the table for someone, a homeless soldier returning, a long lost relative, who might show up unexpectedly. Those years of deprivation turned into years of political suppression, which resulted in my family to flee to West Germany before the wall was built.  With only a few suitcases holding the most important, not precious, items and trust in God's will, my grandparents and their four children found themselves in a refugee camp in a country that shared their heritage and language, yet seemed so foreign.  There was no glue to connect them to others.  They were the "odd ones", having nothing, starting over again in a country that had already risen out of the ashes. Again, perseverance became the family theme.  Never did my grandparents talk about how difficult things were, how they struggled during and after the war.  It was never talked about, however shaped not just their generation, but also the generation of my parents.  The only anecdotes I remember, where how resourceful you had to be to stretch ingredients for another meal or how to sew new clothing out of a coat, how my grandfather was paid in goods, the mischief my uncle got himself into, and how my mother was interrogated weekly in school about my grandparents' decision against joining the party.  Wrapping my mind around all these challenging times throughout history, I can't help but smile about my grandmother's reaction to our nomadic lifestyle being courageous.  It does not compare to what she had to endure, as a human being, a wife, a mother.  But she bloomed and was graciously accepting fate.  She was a strong person, who was modest about everything she accomplished.  One of her best kept "secrets" was her talent for writing poetry.  She also taught me two important things:  first - never go to bed angry at your spouse and second - love your child for who he is.  I now know how right she was.

The Cultural Blanket

It occurred to me, that we oftentimes talk about culture as "baggage", something heavy, that we carry with us on our journey of life, that might also hinder us from moving on, if it is too heavy or bulky.  Considering myself a global nomad who  has pitched her tent in many different places before, I prefer to look at culture as a blanket, something that is ours, that feels comforting and safe.  A blanket made of different fabrics, having many different patterns, different shapes, yet providing the same purpose, no matter where you live and who uses it.  It can be rolled up to rest a heavy head, tied across a mother's back to hold an infant, placed over a table to provide a child with a secret cave and keeps you warm when it seems chilly.

Exposing ourselves to different cultural norms, demands from us to peak out from underneath that blanket, to observe what is new and to take in what seems strange.  Someone once told me that our lives are like tapestries, that are not always a perfect texture, but might have an odd string of yarn woven crookedly through it, our journey through life, sticking out for everyone to see.  That reminded me of a quilt, which represents a story, patched together from scraps and sown by different hands, who all contributed to create that special blanket.  It is not the sort of blanket that is folded up inside a linen closet or tossed hastily over a chair; it is displayed, evenly spread across a bed, for everyone to admire.

I love having my own cultural blanket.  It did certainly come in handy when culture shock had set in after an international move, and I could not get myself to peek out from underneath.  My blanket felt too familiar, and I was not going to give up that comfort quite yet.  Eventually, I realized that it is ok to peek, maybe carry a small piece of that blanket with me, much like "Owen"in the adorable book by "Kevin Henkes", who is so attached to his fuzzy and worn security blanket, that his mother decided to cut it into small pieces when Owen started school.

Having a small piece of our cultural blanket in my heart, allowed me to find the courage to "confront" new cultures, which enriched my life so much, that it felt like I had exchanged small pieces of my cultural blanket with friends I made when making their country my home.  It allowed me to bloom where I was planted.

Gretl: K-9 Companion and Savor or Carpe Diem

This morning, like every morning, I walk around our nearby lake with our labrador mix, rescue dog and trusty K-9 companion by my side.  I remember when my husband and two sons expressed the wish to own a dog.  They knew they had to get my agreement first, so they practiced patience and perseverance at their best!

Now, almost 3 years after adopting this black, energetic and very determined pooch, it is hard for me to imagine not having her around.  Her wagging tail, which is always curled upward and moves in constant perpetual motion, is testimony of her happiness as much as ours.

Over time, we have created an entire parallel universe around her existence, an accumulation of stories adding to her already vivid personality.  These "tales" give us so much fun, that even my teenage son finds it to be a distraction from life's challenges.

Beyond the unconditional love that we all receive from our dogs in particular, we also learn to look at the world from their perspective.  There are treasures out there that we might overlook in our busy lives, would it not be for our dog's nose persistently scoping out the unknown.  It invites us to stop, admire, smell the flowers, listen to the birds, spotting a turtle and practice more "carpe diem".

Now, that the "dog days" of Virginia have started to announce summer over night, our dog will take things a little slower, find a cool spot under the table and probably miss the crisp mornings, when she felt like she had to greet the world with an extra amount of friskiness.