Bonjour, Paris.

A year has passed.  

Last July’s afternoons of temples and chai, monsoons and mosques have given way to this July’s adventure, one decidedly distinct from the last.  While the 29-year-old Joe sought to fulfill a lifelong dream of South Asian adventure – packing lightly, boarding a plane/train/bus/scooter/camel every few days and heading somewhere new – this 30-year-old Joe was looking for one thing: leisure. 

Bienvenue à Paris.

Don’t get me wrong.  I had moments of serenity in India which I doubt I’ll ever be able to duplicate.  Lying at the base of the Taj Mahal, letting my legs, back, arms, and head come in contact with the greatest manifestation of human capability.  Lazily chatting and laughing with Mangala as the monsoon beautifully raged around us.  Eating countless paranthas as I stared at Udaipur’s floating palace.  Those moments have sustained me over the last year.  When the to do list seemed unending, when the bills seemed daunting, when my bed felt empty, when I felt too far away from the ones I love, when life decisions seemed really fucking hard… well… I probably should have gone to a therapist, but instead I opened up iPhoto and clicked on “India”.  It was cheaper. 

Reliving the moments with the smiling and giddy kids in Delhi’s Hama Masjid, I definitely shed a tear or twenty – happy ones, of course.

That got me thinking: When else have I cried?  Not because of heartbreak or life’s menagerie of mini and major tragedies, but rather of sweet nostalgia and unbridled, pure happiness.  I know I mentioned some of these in last year’s blog entries – but over the course of many full moons a few other joyful moments inevitably join the list:

• ·      Seeing Isaac and Sydney peacefully sleeping for the fist time
• ·      Hearing the symphonic cacophony of crashing waterfalls and tropical bird calls at Iguaçu
• ·      Bundling up under the shadow of the massive electric blue Perito Moreno glacier in Argentina
• ·      Turning the corner and being beautifully slapped by the grandeur of the Taj Mahal
• ·      Hearing the eloquence of a group of UCHS students as they recorded their own “It Gets Better” video to end anti-LGBT sentiment (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bo3cSFN9tTI) 

Maybe it’s coincidence or maybe it’s the universe telling me something, but this question of happiness has continually been on my mind lately.  As evidence, reference my nightstand book pile: The Big Five for Life by John Strelecky (Thanks, Maya!), The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin (Thanks, Christine!), and The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle (Thanks, Josh!).  While distinctly different books, they all focus on living passionately, living happily, living unburdened.  In the last of the three, for instance, Tolle tells us that we are not our mind, not the byproduct of our thinking.  The string of thoughts that incessantly pelts us, on the contrary, is separate from our true Being.  It’s in those gaps between our thoughts that we are truly able to connect with our core.  I like to think of it as those times when I really – I mean, REALLY – exhale and appreciate what’s around me – or more generally, when I appreciate life. 

 

So, when does that happen for me?  What are the five things that really make me happy?

It may seem like an easy task, but as Teri, Kim, and I started to come up with lists over wine and Parisian treats last night, it became apparent that this is a harder task than originally thought.

24 hours later, I’ve come up with a preliminary list, of course subject to change as I continue to find out what really makes me happy:

•  ·      Travel – Considering three of the five moments I mentioned above took place while traveling, this should come as no surprise.  Travel, I suppose, shouldn’t be limited to the type that requires a plane ticket and a passport (although I do consider a world map to be more of a challenge than a guide).  I do still find immense pleasure in hopping on my bike or slipping into my running shoes and “traveling” to some unknown part of Queens or the West Village.  I get the same rush when I stumble across a great restaurant, too.  Is travel synonymous with discovery, then?

• ·      The human spirit – I struggled to classify some of my happiest moments: the Christmases with my family, the “orphan Thanksgivings,” the “ah-hah!” moments in the classroom, the night of the presidential election in a dive bar in Cambridge, the total awe of the Taj Mahal and the sculpture wing of the Louvre… but all of them boil down to the human spirit and what we as a species, as a group of beings, as a community are able to accomplish.  We – you and I and every one that has walked and will walk this rock – are pretty amazing when you stop to think about it.

• ·      Possibility – Similar to my last point, there is something sublimely beautiful about our ability to accomplish something once thought to be impossible or never done before.  Fighting for civil rights or simply striving to be a compassionate and empathetic individual requires us to believe in the possibility of a better world.  When I find myself dreaming about possibility – what can be rather than what is – I am truly happy.

• ·      Beauty – Does this make me vain?  I suppose if I defined beauty as whatever the Kardashians tell me is beautiful, perhaps.  But the beauty that really makes me happy is the kind that I see when traveling (either abroad or in my own backyard) or observing fleeting moments of human interaction.  Beauty is a carefully planned meal.  It’s a silly game between a mother and a child.  It’s a painting.  It’s a well-designed dress.  It's Notre Dame.  It’s a side-splitting improv show.  It’s a cascade of flowering plants coming down the balcony of a Parisian apartment.  It’s whatever makes me smile simply by looking at it.

• ·      Leisure – There.  I said it.  I like leisure.  Isn’t it funny that it’s almost a dirty word in our society?  “Man of leisure” has such a negative connotation.  It conjures up some trust fund baby whose life revolves around clubs and cocaine, cars and courtside tickets.  Compared to the 35-hour workweek of France and the café culture, we Americans don’t know how the hell to relax.  We are so goddamned uptight and afraid to simply ENJOY.  Fuck that.  I like to relax.  I like to sit and observe for no other reason than to sit and observe.  I’m thoroughly enjoying drinking this 1,45€ bottle of wine and watching the rain fall on the Sacre Coeur.  You’re hearing it here first: From this day forward, I declare myself a man of leisure. 

If I am most at peace – my mind, my usually tense shoulders - in the calming shadow of these happiness pillars, then am I a slave to my mind in the absence of one?  Two?  Three?  While afraid to admit it, I think I am.

So, why am I in Paris?  The leisure, I suppose.  It is increasingly more difficult to step back and appreciate the tiny moments of relaxation and joy at home – so my hope is to rediscover those little treasures.  I love the common use of the word petit in French – petit déjeuner (“little lunch” meaning breakfast), petite mort (“little death” meaning orgasm), petits fours (“little ovens” meaning small confections or sweets) and petit ami (“little friend” meaning boyfriend), so this trip is my attempt to find les petits plaisirs – “the little pleasures” that exist in life.  I will no longer feel bad for reveling in them.  After all, as the essayist and lexicographer Samuel Johnson wrote, “It is by studying little things that we attain the great art of having as little misery, and as much happiness as possible.”