Still "Hacking Away at Happiness"

When I started writing this blog—and Hacking Away at Happiness—exactly nine years ago, I had no idea where it would go. And yet here we all are. After so many changes! For you and for me.

Remember the beginning? After being fired from a job in Denver that I low-key hated, I had a burst of entrepreneurial and creative energy. I started Flamingo Strategies to help clients “stand up and stand out.” And I aimed to do the same for myself by chronicling my newfound freedom—from improv classes and open mike nights with my ukulele, to sporty dating, silent retreats, clothing-optional hot springs, and Shabbat She-Zoom (my attempt at creating community during Covid). I sought truth and beauty in a world that otherwise was going to shit. And I wrote about it. More than 150 posts in all.

I thought I would always be that itchy, brave, striver girl—with more wacky ideas than I knew what to do with. But a funny thing happened on the way to the forum. In other words, complications ensued!

I met my Mountain Mensch, and learning to share became my adventure.

I went on fewer walkabouts, and came to appreciate my home and his.

The next thing you know—the last thing anyone expected—we’re shacked up in California.

In nearly a decade, I’m sure things have changed for you too. We’re all downsizing (though our bodies may have missed the memo). We’re working less (or less eagerly), and maybe learning to relax. And that’s a good thing. Because soon enough, age or injury or illness will confine us (or our loved ones) to a level of stillness far beyond what we want.

And speaking of time, I’ve got more than enough now to write this blog. And yet, I’m lacking motivation. Man Bites Dog sells newspapers. Groovy Girl Finds Love and Settles Down sounds downright boring. Unless the real story is Groovy Girl Learns Something Worth Writing About. But that will take a minute.

So I guess the bottom line is this: I’m still Hacking Away at Happiness, but I’m doing it differently now. I feel less urgency. Less need to live out loud or to share. And I’ve lost my appetite for deadlines.

I never believed people were waiting for my next post, and yet I found this whole blog project exciting. I loved when a post popped out whole. I spent hours noodling for the perfect photos and smithing over every word. The feedback from friends made me believe that connecting random dots and finding order in the chaos was an act of service. I thought showing up in my small way was a worthy endeavor.

I’ve been tempted to call it quits, but that feels too final.

Instead, maybe I can just live my life for a while. I can notice when a shiny idea appears, but fails to stick. I can get to know some new people and see what makes them tick.

I can wander in the woods and stop for the heart-shaped rocks.