ON HAPPINESS

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Chapter 20 – What if

When I was five years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I wrote down “happy.”
They told me I didn’t understand the assignment. I told them they didn’t understand life.
John Lennon

What if happiness and creativity are the same things?

When I first set out to write On Happiness, I had this idea: Life is, or instead, should be, a pursuit of purpose, not happiness. Also: Our actions, choices, experiences, and so much more are defined – or guided – by our values. But not the overarching societal values we are supposed to believe. Personal values, values formed because of the life we live.

Essentially, I think happiness is the by-product of a value-driven life.

Some days may just not be your day, but with these values in mind, you can get through anything. It’s as if your values are actual, tangible strongholds ready to catch you when you fall, an insurance policy if you will.

Throughout the writing of this blog, especially last summer when I was in my creativity course, I had this thought:

What if (true) happiness and (true) creativity are exactly the same states of being?

I think it is a bit of an odd thought, really.

I mean, on the one hand, you have happiness, a state of contagious joy, something you can give others, something that hopefully and radiantly exudes outward.

On the other hand, you have creativity. This is more so like an intense commitment, where the creator devotes their being to making some thing that wholly, authentically, and tangibly represents the entirety of their thoughts at that moment.

These two don’t really seem the same to me.

But when I step back and really think about it, I am happiest when I am creating, whether that is concocting my latest adventure, completing a class assignment, or even making dinner, I find I am full of life. I think I am also at my best creatively when I am happy.

Here’s another thing, too.

There was a TED talk we were assigned to watch in that creativity course. Elizabeth Gilbert was the speaker, and in this particular talk, she discussed the idea of “your elusive creative genius.” Her questions took her to ancient Greece and Rome. In these times, creativity was thought to be something that had you, that came onto you, as if it were a daemon or a “genius.” She also referenced the sacred dances of North African cultures:

But every once in a while, very rarely, something would happen, and one of these performers would actually become transcendent. And I know you know what I’m talking about, because I know you’ve all seen, at some point in your life, a performance like this. It was like time would stop, and the dancer would sort of step through some kind of portal and he wasn’t doing anything different than he had ever done, 1,000 nights before, but everything would align. And all of a sudden, he would no longer appear to be merely human. He would be lit from within, and lit from below and all lit up on fire with divinity….
But, the tricky bit comes the next morning, for the dancer himself, when he wakes up and discovers that it’s Tuesday at 11 a.m., and he’s no longer a glimpse of God. He’s just an aging mortal with really bad knees, and maybe he’s never going to ascend to that height again. And maybe nobody will ever chant God’s name again as he spins, and what is he then to do with the rest of his life? This is hard. This is one of the most painful reconciliations to make in a creative life.

And, also, remember Leon Logothetis?

When you have these moments, when you feel connected with the divine, you have further to fall. That is the price you pay for pursuing life.

I don’t know about you, but I thought his proposition uncannily resembled Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED talk.

But, the difference?

Logothetis presented his summation of the continuum of emotions related to an ultimate state of happiness contrasted with the deepest sadness, while Gilbert spoke about a state of transcendence resulting from being wholly, authentically, and tangibly creative. But the part that really got me was how they both described anguish, the result of losing this presence of divinity, whether it was from a loss of happiness or creativity.

Before I get to my real point, let me also talk a tiny bit about this idea of transcendence.

Scott Barry Kaufman has this theory he calls the Sailboat Metaphor. It is based on the work of Abraham Maslow (as in, Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs), which Kaufman reimagines as a sailboat instead of a pyramid. Essentially, he posits self-actualization, the very tip of Maslow’s pyramid, is not the end goal but rather a state we flux into as a result of experiencing life. Of growing. Of being fully human. And it is a result of all these things we as individuals find this so-thought-of as an elusive state of self-actualization and transcendence.

And get this –

Exploration is the driver of all growth, defined by the desire to seek out and make sense of novel, challenging, and uncertain events, where growth is a direction, not a destination.

Happiness is often a state of being found by working hard toward something you desire. Creativity is a result of transforming thoughts into something concrete, novel, appropriate, useful – something you. Both culminate in ultimate being – in transcendence, if you will – but can also be lost in a moment, only to be replaced by anguish.

But that’s life.

So what if?

What if life – and happiness – and creativity – really are by-products:

Of wandering and exploring?

Of being a state-hopping fiend, an experience-seeking fiend?
Of finding a place you love so much it hurts?
Of finding a person and people you love so much it hurts?
Of climbing a mountain, only to get to the top to admire how small you really are in the grand scheme of things and thoughts and the other others that exist?
Of letting the beach, the water, take you away?
Of existing and floating in the in-between?
Of getting a bit knocked down only to get back up?
Of never, never, never giving up?

Of living and being?

Of finding – and embracing – the tiny moments of each day?
Of being open to the world, as if to say, “I am here, I am ready”?
Of seeing the stars?
Of learning wild, crazy, and unique skills?
Of being the bigger person?
Of accomplishing unimaginable goals?
Of ignoring rationale in your free time only to let yourself truly experience the world without any notion of a plan so as to let any and everything exceed any semblance of an expectation?
Of meeting strangers who have lessons to teach and wisdom to share?
Of seeing people?
Of being in the magic of everyday life?
Of letting yourself experience your actual emotions?
Of letting the sun be the guiding force for the day?

Of growth and self-reflection?

Of building community?
Of finding, connecting, and collecting ideas?
Of going out on a whim?
Of existing in a perpetual state of awe, kindness, and gratitude?
Of defining your values?
Of extending grace to yourself when you need it most, and pushing your hardest when you are at your best?
Of doing something you have never done simply to find a piece of yourself you never knew existed?

Of finding and sharing your real, inner, authentic voice?

Of recognizing the value of your story?
Of finding some way to share your story?
Of building a resyoume?
Of saying, “this is me”?

Of embracing the true privilege of every single opportunity afforded to you to become whole-heartedly exactly the person you want and strive to be?

At the end of the day, happiness and creativity are the pathways we take to reach the same state of being, this state of transcendence that Scott Barry Kaufman and John O’Leary and Leon Logothetis and Donald MacKinnon and Elizabeth Gilbert and so many others beautifully communicate is the ultimate key to living life.

So what if happiness and creativity are the essences of you?

We are all looking for ways to live as our most authentic beings. But how?

Well.

What if you just loved yourself? So much so that you let yourself selfishly chase your passions to create a life full of experiences to allow yourself to become the absolute best person you can be? And so you can impart some of this on the world?

Because when you become the absolute best version of yourself, the one that simply radiates to the world you are happy and loving and creative and welcoming and wonderful, there is no way we can’t all leave behind something a little bit better.

It is a gift to be you.

So what if you are your own sign telling you to stop questioning and to start wandering, living, and growing to find your own inner voice, to start asking what if?

It is a gift to live a life well-lived, a gift to find and embrace yourself, a gift to do the right thing for you.

Because when you do, when you exude, manifest, and embrace all you are meant to be, when you give the best of yourself – to yourself and to the world – you can change the world.

And that’s pretty powerful.

So I leave you with one final thought:

When you finally find your values and live by them, are you living a happy life or a creative life, or are they really just one and the same?

While I’m here
I wanna go too far
I wanna play too hard
I wanna live it up ’cause I know
I only go so many years
I wanna lose myself
In someone else
I wanna feel it all
Do everything I wanna while I’m here
Mitchell Tenpenny

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Chapter 19 – Jade-isms

My friend Ali is actually the one who gave me the idea for a res-YOU-me.

I had been describing how I wanted to create an alternative resume for myself because my siblings always laugh at me for my distinct “Jade-isms.”

I got to thinking:
What if we all had this type of resume – it could be a list, a poem, a mock of an actual resume, something – that fully described who we are, witty shower-thought one-liners and all?

Ali, a sucker for a good pun, laughed and immediately suggested I call it a “res-YOU-me.”

I haven’t called it anything else since.

I have a pretty good idea of what I would put on my res-YOU-me.

But let me ask, what about you? What if you had a res-YOU-me? What are the headings of your life? The traits, idiosyncrasies, song lyrics, quotes, habits, phrases, adventures, landscapes, things, that encompass you? Who are you really, and why are you proud to be you? Who is the you hidden away?

If I had a res-YOU-me,

I would tell you about wandering, that is, the idea of going about idly, maybe following a winding course, and even a practice of leading yourself astray. Yes, I like

to wander.

You can probably find me:

Roadtripping across the county.
Climbing a mountain.
Or, in Alabama, probably at the beach.

I would probably also tell you about living, the art of being alive and building a life rich in experience, or exhibiting vigor, gusto, and enthusiasm. Yes, I like

to live.

I believe in:

Dancing down the streets, in the farm fields, and around my house with wild abandon.
The healing power of a sunset-chasing, music-blaring, wind-whipping-hair kind of night.
The magic of a new adventure, a good slice of pizza, and the childlike delight of a massive ice cream cone.

I would tell you I finally think it’s important to find and understand yourself through massive ventures in growth, the odd process of developing, increasing, and expanding in maturity and wisdom. Yes, I like

to grow.

I value:

The simplicity of giving and receiving kindness.
Gratitude’s ability to change yours and other’s lives.
Seeking joy in the toughest of times.

I would tell you I think I’ve found my voice, have found that I can express, rely, and act upon my internal values and beliefs. Yes, I like to have

a voice.

You can find me:

Attached to my headphones, likely thinking, singing, listening, or talking to a friend.
Being wildly expressive and animated, likely acting out every conversation of my day.
Daring to be uniquely me, likely sporting massive sunglasses and clackety heels.

Most of all, though, in aspiring to be the Jade I strive to be, I think I would share with you that

I am fiercely passionate about the power of words, loving others, and embodying the sun.

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Chapter 18 – A res-YOU-me

I once had a conversation with a friend in which I told her I wished we had “real” resumes. A place where we could talk about our interests, our most important takeaways, our values. She laughed and suggested, “Oh, you mean like a res-YOU-me?”

Yes, yes. That’s exactly what I mean:

And what if there was a place, a document,
a resume – a res-YOU-me –
to be entirely real and expressive? To showcase you?

A place to say, “this is me.”

A place that acts as a reminder?
A place to document ephipanies?
A place that is starkly you?

A place to say, “this is me.”

And what if, in this place, you could
wander, live, grow, and express your voice?
Be free? Fearless? Unafraid?

Say, without a doubt, this is me.

And what if, just what if, you told people who you really are?

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Chapter 17 – Your story matters

There is this concept – I mentioned it earlier – called self-authorship.

It was coined by Robert Kegan back in the 1990s¹ and later expanded upon by Baxter Magolda.² Essentially, both talk about the development of one’s inner voice. This can also be thought of as the voice of internal reason you develop as a result of dealing with differing viewpoints, those external sources of advice and thoughts that do not match the values in your mind.

There are three steps within the self-authorship process, which exist on a continuum. At different times in your life, you may move in and out of each step.

The first is external voice, which simply means you are guided by, or listen to, others. Many of us find ourselves in this phase when we are younger, usually when we are learning about the world and asking questions about what to think or about what is good or bad. Our external voices are our role models – these people are the ones we look to as an example for our own lives.

Sometimes in this learning journey we call life, we discover conflicting thoughts, both among those who are our role models as well as among those in our minds, lessons we have learned from our own experiences. This is known as the “crossroads” phase. In this second phase, you may experience emotional turmoil as you seek to make sense of actions or words that go against the beliefs and values important to you. This is a difficult phase, especially if you are facing systems issues plagued with varying viewpoints. Nonetheless, eventually, with time and thought, you make your way out of this crossroads and into the third phase: inner voice.

The third phase is coined “inner voice” because this is the point at which you listen to your subconscious to make decisions. Sure, you may seek advice from others (external voice) to gather information and make your decision, but sometimes you encounter conflicting views (crossroads), so you ultimately decide on what best reflects the path you have chosen for yourself (inner voice).

For lack of better terms, the more often you listen to your own heart, the more likely you are to be firmly planted within the final stage –

this is the point at which you become self-authored.

There will be times when you still encounter external voices and crossroads, but ultimately, finding yourself is the point at which you live by the view you hold of the world.

While I could likely ramble on and on about my wild fascination with the different paths individuals take to get here, I think my captivation lies in the fact that becoming self-authored means

You have found the version of yourself you are most proud of, the one that is the absolute best person to take care of you and guide you through life, the one that is entirely confident in you as a unique and individual person as well as the story you have to share.

And that’s pretty cool.

Sometimes – scratch that – most of the time I know I am still working on my journey of self-authorship.

And that is very fine with me.

I know I learn things every day – some things are small and require less thought to compartmentalize. But others are large and require a lot of grappling, reflection, and growth.

Self-authorship hinges on personal growth, though, and I think we should always be seeking how to grow into better versions of ourselves.

For years, I have heard friends and family tell me how proud they are of the growth they’ve watched me undergo:

When I was in undergrad and my friends told me they were proud to have watched me come out of my shell and realize there was more to life to school, and again when I decided to diverge a bit and move to a farm in the middle of rural Alabama;

When I was in Alabama and my friends told me they were proud to have witnessed me successfully use my verboseness to (politely) address issues that mattered to me, and again when they asked to be a part of my weekly journal email chain;

And finally, in Georgia, when my friends and professors told me they were proud to have watched me overcome heartbreak, loss, and loneliness and really grow into myself.

Though I fully believe everyone’s extensions of pride are most certainly compliments, every once in a while I pause and worry – was I too immature or not good enough prior?

Absolutely not.

In these moments, I remind myself – and I think this is an important reminder for anyone – you are always good enough.

I think more so what they meant is that they were proud to have watched me go through an extraordinarily difficult challenge and emerge on the other side – for the better – more confident, sure, and loving of myself. And if you also have people like this on your side, I think that is an immensely powerful realization that should move you to tears.

Friends, family – people – are so loving, it’s downright incredible.

Throughout this self-authorship, inner-voice, finding-you journey, be prepared to love yourself – and find ways to extend that love to yourself. Because when you do emerge on the other side of whatever it is you are facing, there will be an utterly remarkable moment of reckoning when you realize you certainly accomplished what you never thought possible.

You know, in a way, I think On Happiness more so documents my path of self-authorship than anything else – it is my full story thus far.

When I was in high school and college, I was always on the go – working, volunteering, signing up when I didn’t have time, reading my textbooks – all because I was impressed upon that’s what you had to do.

Note: this is not untrue, but there is more than one way to succeed, I just never fully recognized this back then.

And, as I mentioned, for years people have been telling me I am a “ray of sunshine,” “a sun in person form.” These were my external voices, the voices I relied on to tell me I was doing what I needed to do.

But what about what I wanted? What about those moments when I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing? If I was really the happy, smiling presence everyone told me I was?

That was my crossroads, my wanderlustfulness, my adrenaline for living, if you will. I was always doing what I thought I had to do, especially while in school. But I found an immense sense of adventure and I embraced (planned) spontaneity while in Alabama.

I know I likely talk about Alabama far too much, but I feel incredibly indebted to my experiences and the people there for helping me find such a part of myself, for helping me learn to be more confident in myself, and maybe, just maybe, if I share my gratitude, I can do justice to those, and all of my, lived experiences.

Along the way – through it all, as I talked about above – I found growth. I embraced it, sought it, remarked at it, cried about it, felt love for it. I found my inner voice and I truly think that is one of the best gifts you could ever give – and receive – for yourself.

When I was in Alabama (shocker, but actually, I accidentally typed that without meaning to be facetious to prior chapters), I often unknowingly wrote about inner voice. In one such instance, I relate the power of your unique perspective to your story – to being confident in what you have to share, even if it appears, to you, seemingly uninteresting.

I had just flown back from Arizona, from a mini-vacation spent with my sister and grandparents – actually, this was right when coronavirus shut down the United States. Covid-19 aside, that week I felt compelled to write about a sermon we had heard while at church on Sunday:

The sermon was titled “A Story Worth Celebrating,” in which the main point was that everyone has something unique to share.
With the incredible advent of technology and the startlingly large presence of mass media, I think it is quite easy to feel insignificant. In college, too, I remember the sense of competition that seemed to dominate many conversations and draw attention away from peoples’ purely unique and individual experiences.
I, like anyone else who was a graduating senior this time last year (or any year, really), had a million things going on – class, internship, research, volunteer work, off-campus job, and of course, some social activities, exercise, and a semblance of mealtimes thrown in here or there.
Looking back, I could have done a lot less of the former things and more of the latter and still thrived (see: my time in AL as an example).
But.
I did find a lot of comfort and stories worth sharing from my off-campus job – I worked as a waitress in an independent living community, serving in the 11^th-floor dining room that overlooked the skyline of Fort Worth. (I am quite certain it was the best job I have had.) At the time, I vaguely had the thought that being a waitress certainly wasn’t the most glamorous job, although, I was always sure my workplace was. I often came home with story after story – I love talking, interacting, moving fast, and feeling productive, so I certainly thrived in my work atmosphere.
At this point, I feel like I have taken entirely too long to get to my actual point, but I do miss this job and love reminiscing about ‘the good ole days.’
Anyways. All this to say, social media and popular opinion should not be the sole dictator of what makes up a good story. Everyone has a unique skill set and perspective that most definitely has a place at the table.
Some weeks, I sit here and type out this email to my ~followers~ but let’s be real, sometimes it isn’t all that interesting. That’s okay.
Your story doesn’t have to be anything astonishing, unbelievable, or sparkly. The whole point of telling your story is to inspire internal and external reflection, and maybe, just maybe, learn something cool about yourself along the way.
To be really over the top, let your excitement get others excited – life is much better if you don’t care and allow a bit of pride for what you have accomplished because there is no way anyone should ever tell you that you aren’t enough.
3.15.20

I look back on this entry relatively frequently. And I am astonished. But also comforted.

I am comforted knowing there will be days when the most exciting thing that will happen is waking up to the sun. And then nothing else will happen. And conversely, there will be days that are so extraordinary I cannot believe I was the one to live it. We all experience these opposing types of days. And that is okay – life is made up of tiny moments, remember?

Be proud of these boring days, adventurous days, sad days, wondrous days, startling days, awesome days. Be proud to share your story, your voice, your input, your conflicting thoughts.

Because at the end of the day, you matter.

Never, ever forget that.

Notes

For more, check out Robert Kegan’s seminal work, In Over Our Heads: The Mental Demands of Modern Life (1994).
For more, check out Marcia Baxter Magolda’s work, Making Their Own Way: Narratives for Higher Education to Promote Self-Development (2001).

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Finding your inner voice

The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.
C. G. Jung

Normally, I blaze right through these new section introductions. I don’t find them unimportant per se, but I thought the quotes I had for each would speak to why I named them as such.

Let’s take Live, for example. Mitchell Tenpenny is one of my favorite musical artists, and his line, “Who needs a plan when the sun is shining?” inspired me: The times I feel most alive – vibrant with life, shall we say – are the times I’ve set out to face the rising sun, a smile plastered on my face with not a care in the world, and returned home hours later, skies backlit in a golden light, probably with an ice cream cone in hand.

This quote by C. G. Jung hits a little differently, though.

As of late, I have been thinking quite a bit about my voice. No, not my voice voice, though I happen to think I sing well enough, but my voice in a meta sense, as in, I am an autonomous being.

I wrote a (actually, many) paper for my leadership class last semester. The assignment was to pick a leadership practice, examine the literature, provide a critique, and write about how we intended to use the practice in our everyday lives. My paper was on authentic leadership (I may be wrong, but I believe I mentioned this paper last week!). For me, being an authentic leader means being in tune with this inner voice, your inner you – my actual Jade. I write in my paper that Douglas Conant, in Steve Barry Kaufman’s podcast, talks about authentic leadership, specifically, that it is a practice informed by who he is, where he comes from, and what he aspires to do. I write:

Authentic leadership does make sense because it is informed by one’s inner self.

I started a book by Simon Sinek (literally last night). It’s called Start with Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action. On the very first page – before you even get to the actual book – he writes

There are leaders and there are those who lead.
Leaders hold a position of power or influence.
Those who lead inspire us.

As of late, I have been working on a fairly independent interview study. Essentially, I interview key individuals associated with farm to school in the state of Georgia. The other day, I interviewed a woman who spoke about the power of our voices.

Language, awareness, and politics are changing quite dramatically these days. To speak about voice, power, individuality – these are subjects that seem to have become unnecessarily charged. I have to ask – why?

Our voices do have power. Our thoughts, words, actions, behaviors – they all have an unruly, awe-inspiring, and simultaneous incidental amount of power.

But I think the other, more real, question(s) here, is (are),

To what degree are we formulating these words into directives of power?

To what degree are we framing these thoughts into bouts of wisdom and epiphanies for others?

To what degree are we – consciously or unconsciously – inspiring others?

But most importantly, to what degree are we framing our words, as a result of our lives, to shape our own voice? To find our own voice?

Yes, I certainly think it is a privilege to express our voice, as it is – and we should strive for it to be – a direct and authentic representation of ourselves. People can, but shouldn’t, have their voice taken away.

What are you doing to lead, to inspire, to cultivate, to hide, to grow, and to express the voice uniquely informed by the way you get to live?

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Chapter 12 – On emotions

I won’t say that embracing the magic of strangers and experience is easy.

Sometimes, you fall flat on your face. Sometimes, you fall in love. Sometimes, you fall out of love. Sometimes, you lose a friend. And sometimes, things just don’t go as planned: life happens and emotions get in the way. But listen –

This is okay. You are okay.

For so long, as I have shared before, I have been considered – and consider myself – to be a relatively happy-go-lucky individual. I often break into a cheek-aching grin just when I see the sun, and when my favorite song comes on (I certainly have a lot of them!) you bet I will bust into a dance. Even if I am in the middle of a store. But when I – you – do have that moment when life knocks you flat on your face, you can’t help but wonder just when you are going to get back to being the person everyone tells you you are.

I didn’t really know a lot about emotions until – wait for it – I lived in Alabama. While my fellowship was an educational experience in some ways, in others, I thought of it very much as a job. While I was working, I understood for the first time what my parents meant when they downplayed the stress I experienced in school. Sure, the latter stress was important. But school did not really prepare me for the stress of handling bills, the annoyance of dealing with external matters and figuring out how to schedule necessary appointments, or the dilemma of deciding how to tackle those days I just did not want to do my job because I’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed (we’ve all been there, trust me). School taught me I needed to keep going – and not feel – because letter grades are not empathetic, they simply just are.

Some days in Alabama, and even days since Alabama, were and have been truly magical, filled with adventures and strangers alike. It is on these days, I feel so utterly alive it is surreal. In these moments, I think, “This is it, this is what it’s all about.”

So why doesn’t that feeling last?

Because.

Let me tell you a secret –

it’s not meant to.

Sure, these experiences buoy me and bring a smile to my lips for days to come. But something I really had never heard before – or maybe, I will clarify and say grasped the meaning of – is that life is hard. It will not always be happy. It is almost always an uphill battle. And life will hit reset. Every. Day.

I am a massive fan of The Good Life Project, a podcast hosted by Jonathon Fields. (I actually cannot say enough good things about this podcast – it is often the highlight of my day!) He once interviewed Leon Logothetis, who traveled across the United States – and parts of the world – relying pretty much exclusively on the kindness of strangers. In this episode, Leon said many relatable things, but in particular, this bit of wisdom hit home:

“When you have these moments, when you feel connected with the divine, you have further to fall. That is the price you pay for pursuing life.” ¹

It’s okay that life restarts every day. That some days are harder than others. That some days and weeks and months and years are infinitely harder than others – because life is not merely a constant. In fact, the second law of thermodynamics proclaims that things tend toward disorder and chaos. Well, I am sure we can all certainly agree that emotions are chaotic. And messy. Some are horribly depressing. Some are overwhelmingly joyous. Bottom line: emotions are natural – and we don’t talk about that enough.

We live with the norm that the appropriate response to, “Hey, how are you?” is “I’m good.”

But – and reread this if you need to –

what.

if.

you.

aren’t.

good.

We must care when people are not good. We must listen when people are not good. We must see these people, emotions and all, otherwise, how is anyone expected to heal? To wake up and realize it is a gift to start each day anew, not a burden?

Sean Corne and Tiffany Dufu, two other guests on two other episodes of The Good Life Project, convey the importance of going toward these emotions, especially those that are conflicting, those that are associated with trauma, heartbreak, and other hard times. Those simply associated with living.^2,3 But, when we do not define and fully live by our emotions, how can we truly understand our emotions?

Sometimes – more often than you probably think – it is okay to drop the ball. To let go of responsibility. To decide you matter more than the task at hand. To say,

“You know, today is not good. I am not okay. I need help – will you please listen?”

To see someone’s full spectrum of emotions would be to really see them.

I read an inspiring quote once. (Actually, I consume a lot of material, so that was a moot introduction to something I think is quite a pivotal point.) It was in a case study for one of my courses in nonprofit management. The individual of focus was Jeff Weiner, who relayed the importance of values-based leadership in terms of something the Dalai Lama had said. Ultimately, Weiner talked about the difference between empathy and compassion, where empathy may more so be about our ability to stop on the side of the road, see someone in pain, and sit there with them to show them we see their pain. But compassion, compassion is our ability to take the listening – to take the seeing – and help that person through their pain. To enable them to become more than their pain. So that when you both walk away, you are equally better off because of the heart and effort left behind.⁴

I digress.

Personally, I find it hard to fully let others in, even though I am often a person who answers, “Hey, how are you?” with a full synopsis of my day thus far. I like to think, overthink, and then filter out about 836 of my 1,000 thoughts first. Over the past year or so, though, I have been learning how to go beyond only mundanely feeling and maybe sharing these emotions:

I have learned to pause, to breathe, and to ask myself why it is I am feeling what I am feeling.

I have learned to reflect.

To reframe.

To reflect some more.

And then let myself decide what I would like to do with these emotions.

I won’t say it’s been an easy process, nor that I am very good at it yet, but it has been incredibly worthwhile to relish in the fact that it is okay to really feel, to fully live, and to deeply understand these emotions. At times it’s been freeing, but it’s also been painful. And no one really told me that. I’m not really sure why. Maybe it’s my own fault, maybe I wasn’t really listening. Maybe it’s not something you are to be told or taught, but something you are to find on your own. Regardless, I am here to tell you I believe we must learn to recognize and understand both sides, the highs and the lows, of our emotional spectrums. It won’t be easy. It won’t be fun. But it will be worth it. You will overcome, I promise.

Live every day.

Embrace every experience.

Be the highs.

Accept the lows.

And just remember – be gentle, forgiving, and gracious with yourself along the way.

Notes

For more about the ideas of kindness, love, and divinity, check out the podcast episode “Adventures in Kindness with Leon Logothetis” from the podcast series Good Life Project.
For more about whole-heartedly embodying emotions, check out the podcast episode “Yoga, Revolution, Revelation with Sean Corne” from the podcast series Good Life Project.
For more about dropping the ball, check out the podcast episode “Tiffany Dufu: What if the Power Move Was to Just Let Go?” from the podcast series Good Life Project.
Jeff Weiner, a former CEO of LinkedIn talks about the difference between empathy and compassion. Check out the first three minutes of this video. For more, check out this website!

And if you have any recommendations, drop me a link! I’d love to give it a listen. 🙂

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Chapter 6 – Heartbroken and mountain-bound

They say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

An individual may cycle through any of the various phases for a multitude of reasons. Over time, so they say, things will get better. I know you know that. I know I know that, but something else everyone knows? In those moments, when you are mourning, you simply don’t care.

Why?

Because grief and heartbreak are horrible things. Loss, broken dreams, and faded friendships, equally terrible. Painful. Raw. Unforgiving. All-consuming. Exhausting.

They are not simple. They are not easy. They are not kind.

Days come and go, filled with these emotions. Some are easier than others. On these easy days, life feels normal, and you may flashback to your old self. But on the hard days, you feel like a passive observer in that supposedly normal life – and you still remember your old self. The difference is that on the hard days, your emotions hold you completely and utterly hostage.

Every year, I purchase a bracelet from a company called MyIntent. Their aim is for you to choose one word you plan to live by for an entire year, a much more doable task than making a lengthy list of New Years’ Resolutions that, let’s be honest, you probably won’t keep. When I first wrote On Happiness, I had four – Smile, Farmer Jade, Greensboro, and Seek.

Smile

As I’ve mentioned throughout, I have always thought of myself – and been considered – a pretty happy person. I almost always have a smile on my face and aim to impart this to others. I have also always tried to look on the bright side. But at this point in my life, I don’t know if I have experienced a wild amount of trauma, so sometimes, I think I have it pretty easy. I know of others who just seem weighed down by life. I figure a smile is the easiest thing I can always give, something to show these people that while I might not always understand their pain, I see it, I see them. For myself, too, I wanted a simple reminder that at the very least, each day, I could give myself a smile. That even though the load on my plate appeared less in comparison, a smile could help me take on my life with a bit more enthusiasm and positivity.

Farmer Jade

The second bracelet I acquired was given to me by one of my best friends. I had just started farming that year, so it had become my nickname among my college friends. Truly, though, after my first day working on a farm, I was sold – I had discovered my passion and knew it was something that would be a part of my life for a very long time. My friends could see it, too, so that year, I lived by the intention of learning how to be a better farmer.

Greensboro

Queue Greensboro. Farmer Jade took me here. Well, okay, not exactly. Part of my job, while I was in Greensboro, was to be a farmer. As you know from the last chapter, I loved my job. When I was in Greensboro, I was in Greensboro. Though the position only lasted 13 months, and I made it my mission to fully exist within that community, I wanted a reminder to never waste an opportunity.

Seek

Seek has a bit of a different story – this is my bracelet for 2021. I initially thought my word for the year would be “teach,” because I had started my master’s program in agricultural education in August of 2020. In the five months since starting the program, I had come to realize teaching was really more about listening – listening to your students, to those around you, to the structures in place. Listening to the real situation at hand was a better premise for teaching, or so it seemed to me, so I became pretty gung-ho about “listen.”

But then I pivoted.

The word “seek” came me to one day. I had had an epiphany of sorts, and a couple of days later, another of my best friends shared her idea about wanting to start a podcast called Seek.

I won’t speak entirely for her, but in a way, we were both searching for something.

At the beginning of 2021, covid-19 was still pretty much in full swing, but personally, I had managed to separate myself from the emotions tied to the pandemic. I was struggling with something different: several months prior, I had had a pretty hard time leaving Alabama and some of the best friends I have ever had. (To be clear, I often talk about my best friends – I have a lot of them. I’m a state-hopping fiend, remember? They come from all walks of my life and I love them all dearly.) The pandemic had changed the end of our fellowship quite dramatically, and for the first time in my life, I had experienced a heartbreaking loss. I didn’t know you could be heartbroken over leaving a place – I suppose this is what they call homesick – but something I later realized was that I was well and truly heartbroken over leaving Greensboro. I suppose when you give literally everything you have, and then one day you just don’t have it anymore, feelings of loss, anguish, grief, and pain set in.

Beyond feeling a loss, I felt lost, but simultaneously as if I was seeking, searching, for something. For a while I was confused, too – was I still a happy person? I spent so much time in my own head wondering and worrying. Yet, so many people still told me how they appreciated my energy, my joy, my zest for life – because I was always on an adventure. In fact, I spent most weekends of that first fall semester at Georgia hiking different parts of the Appalachian mountains.

When I was little, I told people I wanted to go to college out east, solely because I wanted to hike these mountains. Then, when I first moved, I told myself, “Life is too short, I have a car, what are you waiting for?”

But you know what? I was running away: from grief, from loss. If I was moving (up a mountain at a breakneck speed) there wasn’t time to think. If I was always on an adventure, I could write it off as a bit of planned spontaneity, a zest for “life is too short!” and “no regrets!” It was an attempt to sweat out the feelings I think we are so often told to shove away – and then I wouldn’t even have to process them.

But I learned it doesn’t work like that.

In fact, running away certainly will not solve your problems, or at least, it didn’t for me, but it may help you find what you’re chasing, seeking, and yearning.

It’s interesting. When you leave a place – Greensboro – you can’t really do anything. When I left Alabama, my time there was just simply done. Sure, I could go back and visit, and I have, many times, but it wouldn’t be the same. My job was done. There was an element of finiteness to it. I had a reason for accepting the loss. But when a place is associated with a loss of the presence of friends and family, too, I think that hits a bit differently, harder. Phone calls, emails, and letters are certainly instant gratifiers, but friends and families tied to experiences so incredibly intertwined with the tangibility of fully living in the moment are difficult to leave behind.

In hindsight, I think my mountain escapades were dangerous. I never wanted to work through my emotions lest I lose the zeal I had for everyday life. For most of my life, I found it easy to offer up a smile – because I had not experienced any big sort of loss. Well and truly, I’m not sure the above is an earth-shattering loss, but that period in my life was fraught with more distress than I had previously handled. And it was hard. For a long time, I was hard on myself.

“Why can’t you just let go?”

Because emotions can be tiny monsters. They can also be an extraordinary gift, but they are also monstrous. They do not care who you normally are, that they are unfamiliar, that time – and not running away to the mountains – is really the only cure. You see, I think when we experience these things, the most dangerous thing we can do is to displace these emotions without a will to heal. Our world wreaks of messaging that tells us to suck it up and go. That if you just do this one thing, you’ll be great. That you shouldn’t show your pain.

I call bullshit.

Embrace those feelings. Love those feelings. Work through those feelings. Feel so entirely you, you begin to understand them. Fully and wholeheartedly. They will change, but if you aren’t there to catch the change, to see the change, to comprehend the change, you’re missing out.

I lived alone for most of this period I found myself missing Greensboro and my friends the most. Each day was full of people, classwork, and research, but when I came home, I was alone. I was also lonely. And if you haven’t heard, there’s a difference. I am talker and a sharer, but I found it hard to share the full extent of these feelings. I certainly talked about it at length with many of my friends, but I think the mountains saw more of the full spectrum of my emotions than anyone else. So I was lonely because I felt bound to my emotions, but I perpetuated them by chasing adventure alone.

Then, one day, I felt free, light, like those beautiful, puffy, white clouds lazing about the bright blue sky on a serene summer day. The sad days still came, but my mind was amazingly still – like when you get to the top of the less traveled mountain and gape in awe at the clarity and stillness that exists around you.

Once I finally found myself with this clear mind, I found my loneliness drifting away. There were many days when I still felt alone in my apartment – because I was – but that’s where it ended.

I started to reframe and rethink my aloneness. Being and living alone, especially as a young 20-something, was difficult. But it was invigorating. I, for once in my life, could be so entirely selfish and not care one whit. Because here’s the thing – there was never a need to feel selfish. There was no one waiting on me, expecting me, wondering about me. So, I had no reason to incur or stew in guilt about letting someone down, about not meeting someone’s, other than my own, expectations. It truly was a liberating lifestyle. I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I learned that though I love, cherish, and am very grateful for people, I could live by myself if I needed. And that was an important lesson.

The day we give up on ourselves being the leader of our own life is a sad day.

I know some days can be really, really hard. And if you are reading this right now and thinking, “yes, yes I know,” then I know, too, and I empathize with you. And I won’t tell you time heals all – though it does – but I will tell you that I need you to never, ever give up on you. Because when you, too, find what it is you’re running after, and you remember all the beautiful things about life, it will be a good day.

In the meantime,

dance to the beat of your own music –

with wild and reckless abandon –

even if no one else is.

And when you feel well and truly alive, smile, just because.

Embrace it, and don’t let go.

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Chapter 5 – “When I lived in Alabama…”

When I lived in Alabama, I wrote a journal that I kept as a running Word document. I initially started it to keep in touch with the residents I had come to know and love from the waitressing job I worked while in undergrad. I wrote every week, and every Sunday, I sent this journal entry to what became quite an expansive list of friends and family members. By the end of my fellowship year, my journal was one of my most prized possessions, all 133 pages of it.

Shortly after the fellowship ended, I set out to read, edit, and dedicate this journal to all those whom I had met over the year. Some of my fellow fellows helped me write the dedication:

“So many times in life, we don’t realize the value of what we have until it’s gone. That’s not something I can say for my time in Greensboro. From the moment I arrived and was welcomed into this class of Fellows, I knew I was lucky. Lucky to be living, working, and adventuring with a group of such compassionate, intelligent, and inspired young people. Lucky to be welcomed into a community that cared for us so deeply and allowed us to serve and work with them. Lucky to gain a whole new set of experiences and perspectives which made me all the wiser. The people I met this past year are what made the year remarkable. To have the opportunity to meet everyone, I feel so incredibly lucky.”

This came from Sonya, one of my friends and yearlong housemates. Often, in looking back on this journal, I am sad. I remember being especially so when I first returned home after a year away and read over that journal. At that point, I had never experienced such a sense of loss from extraordinarily happy memories. Now, though, I look back, smile, and laugh – how lucky I was indeed.

When I first moved to Georgia, I quickly became known as “the girl who loves Alabama.” I told (and still tell) story after story that starts with the line, “you know that time when I lived in Alabama?” My friends and officemates thought I was crazy. But I am really not exaggerating when I say I miss Alabama. Everyday. I actually manage to visit relatively often, and when I do so, I grin from ear to ear the second I cross over the state line.

I will never fully be able to say exactly what it is about the place and the state that just gets to me – though I am sure I could list about 23 possible things – because even when I lived there, I could never seem to talk about it enough. I firmly believed Alabama truly was (and is) such a hidden gem, and I am unbelievably grateful to have been able to do what I loved. Every. Single. Day. Sure, the state definitely has a less than stellar history. At one point, we went to the theater to see Just Mercy, and it left me pretty unsettled. The movie, which took place near where I lived, depicted an ugly part of history filled with segregation, racism, and unjustness that existed (and quite frankly, still, unfortunately, does exist) in Alabama up until very recently.

For so long, I had described my experiences to my friends and family with an air of wonder and delight, but this movie challenged my viewpoint and left me feeling lost: was I being naïve, ignorant, or flippant toward its history? I wrangled with this and the structure of my work as well. Since I worked for a small nonprofit, the other fellows and I existed in a unique intersection of wealth, community history, viewpoints, and unspoken tension. Certainly, I found this challenging to make sense of at times, but I came to realize neither the events that had transpired in this state I had grown to love so wholeheartedly nor the contrast of people intertwined within the bounds of our work was an entirely unique concept. Sure, the circumstances of Project Horseshoe Farm vary tremendously from other similar entities. But the world will always present us with conflicting ideals, situations, and people. Nothing is set in stone, and hidden adventures, joy, and curiosity lie among the potholes of grief, shame, and embarrassment. Our job is to figure out what we need to make of these situations by practicing the perspective to be gained, pondering the lessons to be learned, and embracing the growth to be had.

I loved two very particular things about Alabama, beyond the novelties of my job and experiences.

1 Community.

Writing this now – as a young 20-something – I think back on and appreciate the impact community has had on my life: Friday nights at church with the soup ladies, summer days at the pool spent doing water aerobics with the retirees, school nights at the restaurant waitressing with my coworkers.

The other fellows and I lived in an incredibly small town. Everyone knew everyone – that type of small town. And I loved it – scratch that, I thrived on it. I loved going to church potlucks, playing ultimate frisbee with locals, tearing it up at trivia night, singing my heart out at karaoke, running errands or gardening for those in need, chatting with just about anyone in the grocery store, and being known as “the girl who is always smiling, the one who runs.”

2 Growth.

Yes, this sense of community brought me an incredible amount of joy, but the second thing I loved more than anything about Alabama was the sheer amount of growth I experienced. From day one, I learned to embrace flexibility; to build community through a smile; to find joy in the gift of good company; to seek out uncertainty; to overcome anxiety surrounding freedom and spontaneity; to let myself dream; to share my love for Alabama; to stay up till 3am just because; to make the best of dreary farm days; to celebrate my accomplishments; and to love unconditionally. Most of all, I learned a lot about myself: my emotions, values, and beliefs; my communication, delegation, and confrontation styles; my ability to adapt, empower, and overcome; my strengths and my weaknesses.

In short, my time in Alabama astounded me. For once in my entirely by-the-minute life, I lived spontaneously; I embraced a lot of what terrified me: uncertainty. I was in Alabama for a year to literally just live – it’s not as if I had other plans. I didn’t die. I didn’t fret. I definitely stressed, but much less so than at any other point in my life. I made lifelong friends and memories, and I learned so much along the way. By just living. And that was a pretty big deal to me.

If I haven’t yet convinced you (I am not a weirdo) of my love for Alabama, I’d like to impart just a few of my very best memories below. Maybe you, too, will smile, laugh, and understand a bit of what transpired

“when I lived in Alabama.”

6.15.19 The day I moved to Alabama! In typical Jade fashion, I arrived a little out of sorts – hair flying everywhere. I was ~slightly stressed~ because I was 99.3% certain my car was about to combust, but I was absolutely astounded by the beauty of the Alabama countryside. My worries soon faded when I showed up at the Marion rodeo and saw legitimate cowboys and then spent the night dancing away to live country music. If I wasn’t sure I had moved to the Middle-of-Nowhere, Alabama yet, this night fully convinced me of such, and I was 100% on board.

6.22.19 The beginning of our fellowship year coincided with the 10-year reunion and block party bash (I danced 11 miles that night and had an absolute blast getting to know so many community members)! I quickly learned Saturdays were for workdays – you could often find us hammering or shoveling away in the 100+ degree heat, but the sun-loving extrovert that I am, I relished any opportunity to get outside and meet someone new.

7.13.19 Before moving to Alabama, I had never spent a birthday away from my home and family. My 22nd did not disappoint, though. The night prior, my absolute star of a roommate, Catie, surprised me with carrot cake, and many of the Fellows paraded into our room singing “Happy Birthday!” On my actual birthday, I started off the day with a 6-mile run before a birthday breakfast at Mustang! Most of the Fellows came, and I devoured two of Mustang’s famously massive pancakes. Later, we went to Lake Nicol in Tuscaloosa for some cliff jumping! After, we all went to Mellow Mushroom, and if you know me, you know I am an absolute sucker for pizza (and pancakes, so clearly I had the best birthday). In all sincerity, though, in the days leading up to my birthday, I was uncertain how to feel – would I miss my family? Would people actually remember even if I wasn’t home? (Silly, I know, but you know, just a worry of mine.) This day showed me the memories you make with the people you surround yourself with are the best gift you could ever receive.

8.4.19 Jennifer and I took a spontaneous (accidental) trip to Florida! A year ago, we certainly kept this under wraps, but not now! We went to the bars in Mobile and met up with Reed later in the night, and the next day the two of us set off for Gulf Shores. Somewhere along the way, I accidentally took a wrong turn and we ended up in Florida – whoops – but we made it back into Alabama eventually and had an absolutely stellar day. I had never lived more spontaneously in my entire life. Truly one of the best weekends I had in Alabama.

11.2.19 I thought I had never encountered a better state than Alabama. Until we all took a trip to Gatlinburg, TN. We arrived pretty late on a Friday night, and the next morning when I peered out the window, I whipped around and exclaimed to Catie (once a roommate, always a roommate, even at AirBnbs), “Oh, I am never leaving,” to which she appropriately responded, “Jade, you haven’t even been outside yet!” A fair point, Catie, but I am here to say that my initial reaction stayed with me the entire trip. We hiked a ~smol~ mountain, saw snow, ate lots of pasta and pancakes, (I) enjoyed iced Bailey’s in the hot tub, explored Gatlinburg, and a few of us even participated in a (guided) moonshine tasting! This trip made me realize I could live anywhere I wanted, so catch me living up my cabin/mountain dreams in Eastern Tennessee sometime in the near future.

11.28.19 An Alabama Thanksgiving – need I say more? My dad came and visited, which was a lot of fun! We had dinner at Jack and Georgia’s (I was hunched over in pain for three hours), explored Selma and Montgomery, and even went to the Iron Bowl in Auburn (WDE)!

12.31.19 Well, let’s just say what happens in Birmingham on NYE, stays in Birmingham on NYE. Just kidding. We had quite an adventure of a night, one that started with a full day of work and ended with a trip to Waffle House at approximately 3am. Being a pancake connoisseur, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I will say that my buttery hot waffle did not disappoint. (I will also say – this feels like a million years ago.)

2.6.20 Once upon a time, when I still worked at BDA, we had 13+ boxes of onions and leeks to plant. That might not seem like a lot, but take my word for it when I say, that’s a lot of onions and leeks. Especially when it is also pouring rain and 40ish degrees outside and Rojas is away in Mexico. Lucky for me, though, I – and all of my other farm coworkers, you’re welcome – had the pleasure of Lydia’s good company! Though we were soaked and freezing, we had a blast. Later that night after warming up, Catie made Chicken Enchilada Zucchini Boats – they were incredible.

2.21.20 Go Dawgs! Heyo – I got into the University of Georgia on this day! Though I was expecting the offer, I was ecstatic nonetheless! Later, we all went to a fun Mardi Gras party in Demopolis, courtesy of Kirk. Not every day do we get to dress up and do our makeup, so we all certainly had a fun time doing such and attending a ~ball,~ especially one that was BYOW(ine) and provided cheese + live music. Another fabulous day.

6.4.20 Friendship. I really feel I should elaborate, but never have I felt more supported and loved by my friends. I have never shed so many tears for so many people, and every single drop of water that left my eyeballs was because of the love, lessons, and memories I have for and with each and everyone I have met in Alabama.

By this point, I am certain I have taken up more than a sufficient amount of time convincing you why I love Alabama ( / you should also love Alabama). That’s okay – I am unashamed.

But I do have just one more thing left to say –

Do you also have a “when I lived in Alabama…” story?

Embrace it. Share it. Never forget it.

And if you need someone to listen, I’d love to hear it.

We interrupt no. 4 – A mini hiatus

Did someone say Mardi Gras?

Hello friends and family, I hope your 2022 is off to a swell start!

I have had quite the semester so far. From starting a new set of classes to running a major grant project to conducting a 14-person qualitative interview study, I am feeling pretty beat!

Lucky for me, I’m off to New Orleans this weekend.

Don’t worry, I’m not fully going to party it up on Bourbon Street – I am attending a research conference (wohoo!).

I am actually pretty stoked: Though I am not presenting any of my own research, I will be galavanting about telling others about said 14-person interview study (I’ve been interviewing people from several organizations about their role in contributing to Farm to School in the state of Georgia) and meeting a whole bunch of people!

If you know me, you know I am always down to meet a new friend. And talk about vegetables.

Needless to say, I will be a bit tied up this Sunday, and since I only have ONE chapter left, I want to give myself ample time to present the finale of my thoughts.

If you’ve been following along on this serial blog journey, thank you! Your reading eyes and listening ears mean more than I can express.

Take care, y’all, and happy Valentine’s Day!

xoxo, Jade ☀️