I was so happy. Sitting in the mezzanine of the historical Palace Theater, one of what I believe are only four theaters sitting directly on Broadway. It was a perfect combination of Gershwin music played by a full orchestra and sublime dancing and choreography. As much as I love the theater, it’s been a long time since I was transported in the way An American in Paris carried me away to pure joy.

Utter happiness and joy are powerful experiences that can get us through harder times. I value those transcendent moments. But I’ve chased them for so long, not appreciating lovely moments since they weren’t absolutely amazing. For instance, watching a sunset, or listening to Emma, my daughter, tell me about her day. There is a simple enjoyment at those times that I’ve dismissed on occasion since they didn’t provide an emotional high.

One thing I did notice from the other night was that I was not expecting it. It came spontaneously. I’ve had the good fortune of attending a lot of theater lately, but watching the choreography, with the rich music and masterful sets, brought me to an unexpected place. I’ve read the reviews. Some agree with me, others not. We all find joy in unique places.   In my experience living fully gives us more opportunity for joy. But it also means we feel deep pain, among other unappealing sensations. I was fortunate the other night. It was a gift. I appreciate the fleeting experience, because though I can’t literally save it, it’s now a part of me.

I’m reading The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. It’s a unique philosophy of organizing. My biggest take-away so far is to ask the question of each item in my apartment, like clothing or books, “Does this item bring joy?” It’s a great question, and it got me thinking. Could I do this in the rest of my life? I ponderedt this today as I was choosing what to eat. It was nice to appreciate what I had and enjoy it in this way. Then I thought, what about my social life? Shouldn’t I be hanging out with those who bring joy to my life? I do for the most part, but there are still times when I don’t take joy into consideration. Or, more accurately, I purposely don’t ask myself that question because the answer is clear. Nonetheless, I just called a friend merely to put a smile on my face. And it worked.

Of course, I’ll be considering other aspects of life, for instance, my workouts. If it doesn’t bring joy I’ll try something new. I miss swimming, maybe that will be a nice change. Beside working out, there’s my reading list, or what I view online. And I’ll think of other areas to address as they come up.

Fortunately, work already gives me joy. Every day I look forward to seeing my clients. But as I look around my office, perhaps it could use a bit more tidying.   Less important than the work itself, but still supportive of the pursuit of joy.

My biggest question, though, is do I work on tidying up my critical thoughts, or will tidying up the rest of my life lead to less criticism? I guess I’ll try it from both ends and see where it takes me. If there’s less joy one way, I’ll go in the other direction. In the meantime, I’ll finish reading the book, and start with my shirts, as recommended.

I vacillate between seeing the New Year as a fresh start and thinking of January 1^st as the day after December 31^st, part of the ongoing process. Either way, I seem to get serious thinking unoriginal philosophical thoughts. What happened this past year? How did it impact me? Did I laugh enough? Did I grow? What did I learn?

I enjoyed the company of my friends. I enjoyed time alone. No, I didn’t laugh enough. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m always thinking of what else needs to get done, or comedy isn’t as funny as it used to be. Perhaps Robin Williams death quieted my laughter for a bit. In the plus column I worked on being less invested in the expectations of my daughter, and made room to enjoy the fullness of her being. It worked. At 15 she inserts a unique perspective that is refreshing. I was able to fall in love with my husband again. It took work on our part, but it was well worth it. I also worked on enjoying more of what I have rather than measuring what I need to improve my life. That’s useful. I’ll continue to work on that.   My classmates were published, and that’s wonderful. I look forward to another year of seeing friends and colleagues published. And, as always, I derive great satisfaction with my work. I am so fortunate to work with extraordinary people. That’s all I’ll say abut that.

On the down side, I ran less and had to slow down due to an injury. Nice to slow down, not so nice being in pain. People I care about had a difficult year, and I feel for them. I was critical, impatient, rude, made excuses for myself, and forgot to laugh because I took myself too seriously. So I’ll continue to work on self-acceptance, as well as enjoy more moments of patience and kindness.

However you view the new year. I hope you’ll enjoy patience, kindness, self-acceptance, personal success, and, more laughter. Happy New Year.

One of the pleasures of living in New York is the amazing art available to view. I realized that being a member to various museums was an easy way to make short visits to old favorites and new exhibits. This week I went to a new show at MOMA. I’m not a huge fan of contemporary art. It is a good show as far as these go, and I was happy to be introduced to the art of Dianna Molzan. She has a fresh perspective on how we deliver art, and it made me smile. Because contemporary art is not my first love, I moved quickly through the 6^th floor gallery.

When I finished, it was still early member hours and I revisited The Matisse Cut-outs. What a joy that was. Having thoroughly relished the show previously, I could make a beeline to the pieces that make me smile the most. It was a brief visit since I had to go to an appointment, but seeing his art close up has been a pleasure I’ve savored all week. There’s something about Matisse that makes me happy. His exuberant women, his love of movement, his expansive vision are all a part of it, but that doesn’t really explain his gift. Nor does it clarify why I enjoy his work so much.      I stopped trying to understand. I know what I like and when art speaks to me, I simply enjoy the moment. I’m okay with the fact that Matisse was one of the most popular artists of his or any time. I can be one in a crowd. As long as I have a good view.

In my every day life I’m a psychotherapist. I love what I do and I am always awed by the courage and growth I witness in my practice. I am committed to my work and my clients, giving what I can to do the work necessary   Even though I go for long walks, meditate, go to my own therapy, take vitamins, and do what I can to laugh, I tend to be exhausted by the end of the week.

Given my line of work, it’s ironic that when I go on vacation I tend to lie about what I do. But I have reason to lie.

Sometimes I make the mistake of being honest when asked, “What do you do?” This past weekend was one of those times.   We stayed at a lovely B&B in upstate New York. Well, lovely for non-therapists. The manager and staff were so friendly. I like good service, but when I go away I don’t want to get to know anyone. I want to unwind.

When we arrived, we were asked how our trip was. We were told a lot about the sweets that were out, the complimentary tea and coffee, and more about the history of the inn and the area. I had to finally let the manager know that I needed a nap. It was a busy week, and I wanted to rest.

The following day, after a morning in which my amiable husband spoke with the chef, I walked downstairs and the chef, making conversation, asked me, “What do you do?” For a second I thought of saying I’m an actuary. It ends any conversation about jobs. Either people don’t know what an actuary is, but don’t want to admit it. Or, they don’t want to talk about statistics. Either way, I’m safe. But I told him the truth, “I’m a therapist.” Before I knew what happened, he was telling me about a hard time in his life.

This was my vacation. I didn’t ask him to come to my home on his day off to cook for me. This is not an unusual incident. The first time I can remember was when I was so happy to start my private practice. As a gift, I was being treated to a day at The Red Door getting spa treatments. The manicurist asked me what I did, and I told her. She then told me about her granddaughter and the trouble she was having. And, though I thought I was obligated to answer, she did not offer me any extra services. I left feeling resentment rather than relaxation.

So, after too many times giving solicited advice, and not getting the proper time off, I started my fictional career when confronted with needy people on my down time. I’m not proud that I lie, but I am relieved that I am not the confidant to strangers in strange places. I guess my vacations include a vacation from the truth.  Being well rested gives me the relief I need to go back to my real job. In my office I can be the psychotherapist I am.

View from the jog I took alone on this vacation.