I remember hearing rumors of Burning Man for years. My impression of it was as a place where the fringe elements of society met for a debaucherous week of Sodom and Gomorrah-esque carnality. I also read about Silicon Valley entrepreneurs experimenting with various substances seeking to enhance their performance.
Over the years media coverage of Burning Man shifted from underground to mainstream. Eventually I met people who knew people who went. Conversations about Burning Man were met with either reverence or disdain. You either loved it or hated it. The only other option I encountered were people who had never heard of “that thing in the desert”.
I thought 2016 was my year to go. I started researching months in advance, studied the theme and broached the topic with my wife. She had a neutral to negative vibe towards Burning Man. The date crept closer and I let the idea of going float down the river. To be honest, part of me was relieved because I was emotionally and literally unprepared.
Then came February 2017 and Stealing Fire. My wife and I read it together. We both found it captivating and inspiring. This didn’t make my wife want to go to Burning Man but it opened her up to an alternative, less debaucherous, perspective. Stealing Fire lit a fire in me. The more I shared the book with friends and family the more they understood the event was more than sex and drugs.
My intentions of going to Burning Man began to materialize mid-Summer 2017. I scoured the Burning Man website and read all their newsletters. In my own research I discovered a man by the name of Halcyon. He had been to Burning Man every year for two decades. His YouTube channel was entertaining and helpful. His videos for first time “Burners” were choked full of useful information.
Halcyon has a vibrant, optimistic personality that matches his spikey hot pink blue hair. With his tattoos and piercings he looks weathered but in a well-lived life kind of way. He is also humble, gracious and speaks clearly and freely from his heart. Through his videos he helped me understand that Burning Man is not a “festival” it’s a community – a concept that I would both struggle with and come to deeply respect once at Black Rock City. Halcyon’s videos answered critical questions that were haunting me such as, “Where will I poop?” and “What does one wear at burning man?”
Several friends who I had convinced to read Stealing Fire found out about my desire to go and wanted to join. We teamed up and started planning. Details of what to bring, what to expect and how to prepare emotionally began to foment. My excitement started to build and so did my anxiety. I am not typically an anxious person but this event seemed to have the potential to push me so far outside of my comfort zone that something serious might happen.
Burning Man is many things to many people. It may be a wonderful community with great diversity where everyone is welcome. But it has a deep and wide shadow side reputation for a reason. It would be foolish for me not to consider how I would handle the sexually charged environment and freedom of anonymity and endless drugs.
Among my friends and family I am often the one who lives close to the edge. But at Burning Man I would be the freshmen, the new kid. A lot of people would be younger, prettier, smarter, wealthier, and wilder than myself. What would that feel like? I worked myself into a tizzy waking up in the morning feeling panicky and unprepared.
Over the next few months I went on a spending spree buying boots and goggles, clothes (some of them women’s), and tons of camping gear and food. Getting a ticket turned out to be more difficult than I imagined but in the end it all worked out.
My buddy and I arrived at the airport to find that our flight had been delayed due to mechanical problems. This caused alarm. The connection time between the bus from the Reno Airport to Black Rock City was tight. But within a short period of time the engine problem was fixed and we were on our way. We made our connection with time to spare and off we went with a bus full of Burners and high hopes for an amazing week.
When we arrived at Black Rock City all first-time Burners were directed to a check-in area. I wasn’t aware of it at the time but this was all a comical ruse. We were about to be hazed in a silly ritual that would involve a very helpful mindset shift. I won’t spoil the surprise for you in case you go. Just remember to go with it.
After our initiation we were no longer virgin Burners. We were members of the community. Everyone greeted us with hugs and one of the most beautiful phrases in the world, “Welcome home.”
It would be impossible in this brief essay to write about everything that happened. However, here are a few takeaways from my experience. To say that Burning Man is about sex and drugs is to say that football is about fighting. Does fighting happen in football? Yes, but its not what it’s about. To the degree that Bonnaroo takes you to such great heights of fun and play Burning Man takes that and adds a deeply inward and spiritual dimension. They are two sides of the same universe, to be sure, but they are vastly different in important ways.
Here is a glimpse into the vastness of what Black Rock City has to offer outside of sex and drugs. When you arrive you are given a book called, What? Where? When? It is a loose calendar of events camps have submitted prior to the event. I attended several seminars while there which included a couple talking about the power of communication and connectedness. I also attended a lecture by a 4th year medical student from Stanford who was conducting research on ketamine and resistant treatment depression.
Halcyon’s Pink Heart Camp became my refuge in the desert providing me with cucumber water, shade, ice cream, cookies and engaging conversations. During one of my conversations with Halcyon he paused mid-conversation and said, “Hold on. I want to give you something.” He dashed away and when he returned he gave me a sticker the size of a business card. On it were printed three statements. Each one represented lessons he learned throughout his life from porn star to lifestyle artist peddling healing and love. The three statements were: Be present. Have integrity. Align with love.
One of the most humbling experiences I had at Burning Man was visiting The Temple. There are four main areas at Burning Man. There is the semicircle city where everyone lives with Center Camp as its hub. There is the deep playa where the majority of the art is located. There is the enormous Burning Man effigy housed in a beautifully ornate wooden structure that is burned at the end of the week. Behind The Man is The Temple. It was explained to me that people go to Burning Man to party and people go to The Temple to grieve. It’s okay to do both. It felt sacred that the overseers of this temporary city were thoughtful to include the panoply of human experience.
Entering The Temple for the first time I glanced down to see a block of wood on top of a stack of letters. On the wooden block was written, “Letters to my abuser. Go be free mom. I am.”
As I immersed myself in this sacred space a sense of quiet and inner stillness spontaneously manifested. Many people were lost in their agony. The sounds of weeping, pleading, blaming, desperation were inescapable. The expression on many faces was kind yet solemn.
On the walls were shrines to family members, friends, children and beloved animals that had died. There were pictures and messages mixed with personal effects of the departed arranged over every inch of The Temple. A group of musicians were situated in the center of The Temple on the floor. They were singing softly and playing a harmonium and sitar. No, Burning Man is not just about sex and drugs.
Over the Christmas holidays my nine-year-old son, Mack, had a burning (pun intended) desire for our family to gather with tea and hot chocolate one evening around the Christmas tree and just talk. We arranged an evening when we could all be together. He was so excited. He emceed the evening by asking questions. They were pretty simple at first like what did every one want for Christmas. But as the evening went on his questions grew more intimate. The question that impacted me most was, “What was your best memory from 2017?” Obviously I had a lot to pull from this being the best year of my life but one memory in particular stood out from the others.
I was standing in The Temple at Burning Man. Tucked into my pocket was a scribbled drawing made by my five-year-old Bodie. Before I left he drew me a stick figure of the Burning Man with six smaller stick figures encircling the man – one figure for each member of our family. I told Bodie before I left how grateful I was for his beautiful picture and that I was going to put it in The Temple. I had everyone sign it before packing it in my backpack.
As I walked around The Temple looking for a place to put Bodie’s picture I found a small unclaimed nook. I wedged the paper into the corner. I bent over to scoop a handful of earth to weigh down the paper. As I stood up I was overcome with profound grief, not for myself, but for the recognition that there were so many suffering the loss of a loved one in this room. In that same moment I was filled with intense gratitude for my wonderful family. I wept openly for the pain and suffering that surrounded me. That, I explained to Mack, was the best moment of my year – realizing my family was alive and well and were always in my corner rooting for me.
The moment when my fears came to a head happened midweek. I was hungry and made my way back to my tent for a snack and a nap. A soft breeze cooled the hot afternoon air. The clouds helped by blocking the sun. It was the perfect time for a rest.
As I stood around eating yet one more energy bar and observing this mass of humanity I noticed something odd about the clouds. They were not the normal puffy white or ashen gray color I was used to. They were bronze. Our camp was situated near the back of the city which offered us a panoramic view of the open desert. As I focused my attention on the clouds I scanned the open desert and noticed enormous plumes of dust on the horizon reaching to the sky.
I realized one of the dreaded sandstorms mentioned in the many first timer blogs as well as the official Burning Man website was headed my way. The advice is to seek shelter no matter where you are. Hunker down. Don’t move or you might get seriously injured or die. I was grateful to be near my tent for shelter. I grabbed my goggles, facemask and camera and started filming. The storm was moving at a healthy clip directly toward me. I remember panning to the left moments before it arrived. I caught a side view of the dusty blizzard. It was apocalyptic. I felt my first tinge of panic. I turned the camera back to face the storm as it engulfed me.
The winds were stronger than I expected. My goggles and mask were doing an adequate job of protecting me so I kept filming. The winds picked up and visibility decreased. Something flew past my head. I couldn’t make out what it was but it sounded heavy. For the first time I felt I may be in actual danger.
I decided I should get in my tent. I started in that direction but a complete darkness consumed me. As the winds howled and the sand whipped I lifted my hand in front of my face and couldn’t see anything. This, I realized, was the moment I had been most scared of in all of my preparations: What happens if I get in a situation where I don’t feel safe and don’t know what to do?
I kept filming as the wind and sand pummeled me. Within a few minutes the claustrophobic darkness began to lift. Emotionally it felt like the dawn of a new day. As the light slowly returned there were howls coming from every direction. We were engaging in a primitive call and response ritual.
“Ay oooooo! (translation: That was cool!)
“Woo. Whoo! (translation: Are you ok? I’m ok.)
From the moment I committed to going to Burning Man in 2017 a small fear lived inside of me. Do I have what it takes? Why am I going? Maybe I shouldn’t go. I can always go next year. Yet each time I faced my fears and was rewarded with a little more courage, a little more happiness and a deeper understanding and appreciation for myself and this incredible world in which we live.
If you would like to see my video of the sand storm along with a little tour of Burning Man check out my YouTube video here: Reb @ Burning Man 2017
---
Midway through 2017 while at Bonnaroo an idea started to percolate about writing a book on happiness. One morning as Dan and I lounged outside our RV listening to bands rehearse on the main stage I shared this idea. He remembered something he had recently read about Aristotle’s expanded view of happiness. Rather being a chintzy feeling, Aristotle believed in a rich and layered view of human happiness.
On Dan’s suggestion I researched Aristotle’s thoughts on happiness. What I discovered is that he, more than any other philosopher, believed happiness is the sole purpose of life. He begins his inquiry by asking, “What is the purpose of human existence?” Aristotle’s conclusion was that happiness involves the acquisition of a moral compass, the working out of virtues such as courage, generosity, justice, friendship, and good citizenship. He also felt there needed to be a constant vigilance between excessive indulgence and deprivation.
Centuries later Martin Seligman, father of Positive Psychology, would update these virtues for modern times. He suggested that the pursuit of happiness could be found through three types of living: The Pleasurable Life, The Good Life, and The Meaningful Life. The Pleasurable Life consisted of sensorial pleasures. The Good Life consisted of formal education, finding meaningful work, gaining self-understanding and facing life’s challenges with courage. The Meaningful Life involved taking all that had been learned in The Good Life and gifting that wisdom back to others.
I deeply connected to this rich, new perspective on happiness. My conclusion: Everything we do is to make some part of ourselves happy. Everything. Yet so many of us are unhappy. Many would argue they engage in activities everyday that don’t make them happy. Our modern, cultural definition of happiness is so frail and limited that we end up gorging in The Pleasurable Life. Out of this hedonism emerges cognitive dissonance: If everything we do is to make ourselves happy then why are so many of us unhappy? What can we do to live full, rich, meaningful and yes happy lives? This quest is what evolved into the foundation for my book The Hard Work Of Happiness.
---
I did not plan for 2017 to be the greatest year of my life. It just unfolded that way. It surely couldn’t have been predicted by the way the year started. Yet I remained curious to the clues The Universe was laying before me.
It is my observation that profoundly beautiful moments smash right into extremely painful ones and vice versa. For example, at Meatballs, the camp for adults, on the night before I left for Burning Man my wife and I experienced several incredible moments of deep connectedness. One of those occurred as we canoed across the lake at sunset. It was a peaceful, beautiful moment of perfection. It looked like what love feels like. However, hours later during a 3 AM drive to the airport we entangled ourselves in one of the biggest emotional tailspins of the year. It eventually left me crying in the Reno airport.
Authentic, meaningful happiness is hard work. It requires something of you. It requires your attention even when life seems boring. It requires discipline when you are exhausted and feel like you have earned a break. And it requires suffering well.
This has been the greatest year of my life to this point. I’m going to try and make 2018 even better but I am also willing to hold that idea loosely. But there’s no harm in trying, right? I also recognize that for many this has been a difficult year. Norms of our civilized, caring society have been upended. People do not feel free to be who they are or speak up for fear of retaliation. For some, fear has reigned in 2017. In such a time as this I am reminded of the words of David Stendl-Rast, “Can you be grateful for everything? No. No one can be grateful for war or pain or suffering of a loved one. But within every moment, there is an opportunity to be grateful for something.” Sometimes gratitude is all we have to give and that is enough.
I believe one of the secrets to my epic 2017 was stacking one good decision on top of another. The discipline of stacking has far reaching implications that we are only partially aware of in the moment. Aristotle spoke to this when he wrote, “for as it is not one swallow or one fine day that makes a spring, so it is not one day or a short time that makes a man blessed and happy.”
I will end with my opening thoughts in The Hard Work Of Happiness:
I am among the fortunate who can answer with confidence the age-old question of, “Why am I here?” It is my profound privilege and purpose to help others learn how to alleviate unnecessary suffering. By doing so what is left is sacred and sacred suffering has a purpose. If we must suffer, and we all must, then let us suffer well and together. By suffering well we write new endings to our painful stories. Through this intentional act of rewriting our history we redeem those lonely, dark nights of despair into stories of resilience. As we heal, the love we are given and the love we give become the ultimate, defining purpose of life filling our cups to overflowing with gratitude and joy. May your life be rid of all unnecessary suffering and may it be filled with an abundance of compassion, calmness, courage, creativity, clarity, connectedness, confidence, and curiosity. May you free yourself from unnecessary burdens and wrestle well with your sacred suffering.
Over the years media coverage of Burning Man shifted from underground to mainstream. Eventually I met people who knew people who went. Conversations about Burning Man were met with either reverence or disdain. You either loved it or hated it. The only other option I encountered were people who had never heard of “that thing in the desert”.
I thought 2016 was my year to go. I started researching months in advance, studied the theme and broached the topic with my wife. She had a neutral to negative vibe towards Burning Man. The date crept closer and I let the idea of going float down the river. To be honest, part of me was relieved because I was emotionally and literally unprepared.
Then came February 2017 and Stealing Fire. My wife and I read it together. We both found it captivating and inspiring. This didn’t make my wife want to go to Burning Man but it opened her up to an alternative, less debaucherous, perspective. Stealing Fire lit a fire in me. The more I shared the book with friends and family the more they understood the event was more than sex and drugs.
My intentions of going to Burning Man began to materialize mid-Summer 2017. I scoured the Burning Man website and read all their newsletters. In my own research I discovered a man by the name of Halcyon. He had been to Burning Man every year for two decades. His YouTube channel was entertaining and helpful. His videos for first time “Burners” were choked full of useful information.
Halcyon has a vibrant, optimistic personality that matches his spikey hot pink blue hair. With his tattoos and piercings he looks weathered but in a well-lived life kind of way. He is also humble, gracious and speaks clearly and freely from his heart. Through his videos he helped me understand that Burning Man is not a “festival” it’s a community – a concept that I would both struggle with and come to deeply respect once at Black Rock City. Halcyon’s videos answered critical questions that were haunting me such as, “Where will I poop?” and “What does one wear at burning man?”
Several friends who I had convinced to read Stealing Fire found out about my desire to go and wanted to join. We teamed up and started planning. Details of what to bring, what to expect and how to prepare emotionally began to foment. My excitement started to build and so did my anxiety. I am not typically an anxious person but this event seemed to have the potential to push me so far outside of my comfort zone that something serious might happen.
Burning Man is many things to many people. It may be a wonderful community with great diversity where everyone is welcome. But it has a deep and wide shadow side reputation for a reason. It would be foolish for me not to consider how I would handle the sexually charged environment and freedom of anonymity and endless drugs.
Among my friends and family I am often the one who lives close to the edge. But at Burning Man I would be the freshmen, the new kid. A lot of people would be younger, prettier, smarter, wealthier, and wilder than myself. What would that feel like? I worked myself into a tizzy waking up in the morning feeling panicky and unprepared.
Over the next few months I went on a spending spree buying boots and goggles, clothes (some of them women’s), and tons of camping gear and food. Getting a ticket turned out to be more difficult than I imagined but in the end it all worked out.
My buddy and I arrived at the airport to find that our flight had been delayed due to mechanical problems. This caused alarm. The connection time between the bus from the Reno Airport to Black Rock City was tight. But within a short period of time the engine problem was fixed and we were on our way. We made our connection with time to spare and off we went with a bus full of Burners and high hopes for an amazing week.
When we arrived at Black Rock City all first-time Burners were directed to a check-in area. I wasn’t aware of it at the time but this was all a comical ruse. We were about to be hazed in a silly ritual that would involve a very helpful mindset shift. I won’t spoil the surprise for you in case you go. Just remember to go with it.
After our initiation we were no longer virgin Burners. We were members of the community. Everyone greeted us with hugs and one of the most beautiful phrases in the world, “Welcome home.”
It would be impossible in this brief essay to write about everything that happened. However, here are a few takeaways from my experience. To say that Burning Man is about sex and drugs is to say that football is about fighting. Does fighting happen in football? Yes, but its not what it’s about. To the degree that Bonnaroo takes you to such great heights of fun and play Burning Man takes that and adds a deeply inward and spiritual dimension. They are two sides of the same universe, to be sure, but they are vastly different in important ways.
Here is a glimpse into the vastness of what Black Rock City has to offer outside of sex and drugs. When you arrive you are given a book called, What? Where? When? It is a loose calendar of events camps have submitted prior to the event. I attended several seminars while there which included a couple talking about the power of communication and connectedness. I also attended a lecture by a 4th year medical student from Stanford who was conducting research on ketamine and resistant treatment depression.
Halcyon’s Pink Heart Camp became my refuge in the desert providing me with cucumber water, shade, ice cream, cookies and engaging conversations. During one of my conversations with Halcyon he paused mid-conversation and said, “Hold on. I want to give you something.” He dashed away and when he returned he gave me a sticker the size of a business card. On it were printed three statements. Each one represented lessons he learned throughout his life from porn star to lifestyle artist peddling healing and love. The three statements were: Be present. Have integrity. Align with love.
One of the most humbling experiences I had at Burning Man was visiting The Temple. There are four main areas at Burning Man. There is the semicircle city where everyone lives with Center Camp as its hub. There is the deep playa where the majority of the art is located. There is the enormous Burning Man effigy housed in a beautifully ornate wooden structure that is burned at the end of the week. Behind The Man is The Temple. It was explained to me that people go to Burning Man to party and people go to The Temple to grieve. It’s okay to do both. It felt sacred that the overseers of this temporary city were thoughtful to include the panoply of human experience.
Entering The Temple for the first time I glanced down to see a block of wood on top of a stack of letters. On the wooden block was written, “Letters to my abuser. Go be free mom. I am.”
As I immersed myself in this sacred space a sense of quiet and inner stillness spontaneously manifested. Many people were lost in their agony. The sounds of weeping, pleading, blaming, desperation were inescapable. The expression on many faces was kind yet solemn.
On the walls were shrines to family members, friends, children and beloved animals that had died. There were pictures and messages mixed with personal effects of the departed arranged over every inch of The Temple. A group of musicians were situated in the center of The Temple on the floor. They were singing softly and playing a harmonium and sitar. No, Burning Man is not just about sex and drugs.
Over the Christmas holidays my nine-year-old son, Mack, had a burning (pun intended) desire for our family to gather with tea and hot chocolate one evening around the Christmas tree and just talk. We arranged an evening when we could all be together. He was so excited. He emceed the evening by asking questions. They were pretty simple at first like what did every one want for Christmas. But as the evening went on his questions grew more intimate. The question that impacted me most was, “What was your best memory from 2017?” Obviously I had a lot to pull from this being the best year of my life but one memory in particular stood out from the others.
I was standing in The Temple at Burning Man. Tucked into my pocket was a scribbled drawing made by my five-year-old Bodie. Before I left he drew me a stick figure of the Burning Man with six smaller stick figures encircling the man – one figure for each member of our family. I told Bodie before I left how grateful I was for his beautiful picture and that I was going to put it in The Temple. I had everyone sign it before packing it in my backpack.
As I walked around The Temple looking for a place to put Bodie’s picture I found a small unclaimed nook. I wedged the paper into the corner. I bent over to scoop a handful of earth to weigh down the paper. As I stood up I was overcome with profound grief, not for myself, but for the recognition that there were so many suffering the loss of a loved one in this room. In that same moment I was filled with intense gratitude for my wonderful family. I wept openly for the pain and suffering that surrounded me. That, I explained to Mack, was the best moment of my year – realizing my family was alive and well and were always in my corner rooting for me.
The moment when my fears came to a head happened midweek. I was hungry and made my way back to my tent for a snack and a nap. A soft breeze cooled the hot afternoon air. The clouds helped by blocking the sun. It was the perfect time for a rest.
As I stood around eating yet one more energy bar and observing this mass of humanity I noticed something odd about the clouds. They were not the normal puffy white or ashen gray color I was used to. They were bronze. Our camp was situated near the back of the city which offered us a panoramic view of the open desert. As I focused my attention on the clouds I scanned the open desert and noticed enormous plumes of dust on the horizon reaching to the sky.
I realized one of the dreaded sandstorms mentioned in the many first timer blogs as well as the official Burning Man website was headed my way. The advice is to seek shelter no matter where you are. Hunker down. Don’t move or you might get seriously injured or die. I was grateful to be near my tent for shelter. I grabbed my goggles, facemask and camera and started filming. The storm was moving at a healthy clip directly toward me. I remember panning to the left moments before it arrived. I caught a side view of the dusty blizzard. It was apocalyptic. I felt my first tinge of panic. I turned the camera back to face the storm as it engulfed me.
The winds were stronger than I expected. My goggles and mask were doing an adequate job of protecting me so I kept filming. The winds picked up and visibility decreased. Something flew past my head. I couldn’t make out what it was but it sounded heavy. For the first time I felt I may be in actual danger.
I decided I should get in my tent. I started in that direction but a complete darkness consumed me. As the winds howled and the sand whipped I lifted my hand in front of my face and couldn’t see anything. This, I realized, was the moment I had been most scared of in all of my preparations: What happens if I get in a situation where I don’t feel safe and don’t know what to do?
I kept filming as the wind and sand pummeled me. Within a few minutes the claustrophobic darkness began to lift. Emotionally it felt like the dawn of a new day. As the light slowly returned there were howls coming from every direction. We were engaging in a primitive call and response ritual.
“Ay oooooo! (translation: That was cool!)
“Woo. Whoo! (translation: Are you ok? I’m ok.)
From the moment I committed to going to Burning Man in 2017 a small fear lived inside of me. Do I have what it takes? Why am I going? Maybe I shouldn’t go. I can always go next year. Yet each time I faced my fears and was rewarded with a little more courage, a little more happiness and a deeper understanding and appreciation for myself and this incredible world in which we live.
If you would like to see my video of the sand storm along with a little tour of Burning Man check out my YouTube video here: Reb @ Burning Man 2017
---
Midway through 2017 while at Bonnaroo an idea started to percolate about writing a book on happiness. One morning as Dan and I lounged outside our RV listening to bands rehearse on the main stage I shared this idea. He remembered something he had recently read about Aristotle’s expanded view of happiness. Rather being a chintzy feeling, Aristotle believed in a rich and layered view of human happiness.
On Dan’s suggestion I researched Aristotle’s thoughts on happiness. What I discovered is that he, more than any other philosopher, believed happiness is the sole purpose of life. He begins his inquiry by asking, “What is the purpose of human existence?” Aristotle’s conclusion was that happiness involves the acquisition of a moral compass, the working out of virtues such as courage, generosity, justice, friendship, and good citizenship. He also felt there needed to be a constant vigilance between excessive indulgence and deprivation.
Centuries later Martin Seligman, father of Positive Psychology, would update these virtues for modern times. He suggested that the pursuit of happiness could be found through three types of living: The Pleasurable Life, The Good Life, and The Meaningful Life. The Pleasurable Life consisted of sensorial pleasures. The Good Life consisted of formal education, finding meaningful work, gaining self-understanding and facing life’s challenges with courage. The Meaningful Life involved taking all that had been learned in The Good Life and gifting that wisdom back to others.
I deeply connected to this rich, new perspective on happiness. My conclusion: Everything we do is to make some part of ourselves happy. Everything. Yet so many of us are unhappy. Many would argue they engage in activities everyday that don’t make them happy. Our modern, cultural definition of happiness is so frail and limited that we end up gorging in The Pleasurable Life. Out of this hedonism emerges cognitive dissonance: If everything we do is to make ourselves happy then why are so many of us unhappy? What can we do to live full, rich, meaningful and yes happy lives? This quest is what evolved into the foundation for my book The Hard Work Of Happiness.
---
I did not plan for 2017 to be the greatest year of my life. It just unfolded that way. It surely couldn’t have been predicted by the way the year started. Yet I remained curious to the clues The Universe was laying before me.
It is my observation that profoundly beautiful moments smash right into extremely painful ones and vice versa. For example, at Meatballs, the camp for adults, on the night before I left for Burning Man my wife and I experienced several incredible moments of deep connectedness. One of those occurred as we canoed across the lake at sunset. It was a peaceful, beautiful moment of perfection. It looked like what love feels like. However, hours later during a 3 AM drive to the airport we entangled ourselves in one of the biggest emotional tailspins of the year. It eventually left me crying in the Reno airport.
Authentic, meaningful happiness is hard work. It requires something of you. It requires your attention even when life seems boring. It requires discipline when you are exhausted and feel like you have earned a break. And it requires suffering well.
This has been the greatest year of my life to this point. I’m going to try and make 2018 even better but I am also willing to hold that idea loosely. But there’s no harm in trying, right? I also recognize that for many this has been a difficult year. Norms of our civilized, caring society have been upended. People do not feel free to be who they are or speak up for fear of retaliation. For some, fear has reigned in 2017. In such a time as this I am reminded of the words of David Stendl-Rast, “Can you be grateful for everything? No. No one can be grateful for war or pain or suffering of a loved one. But within every moment, there is an opportunity to be grateful for something.” Sometimes gratitude is all we have to give and that is enough.
I believe one of the secrets to my epic 2017 was stacking one good decision on top of another. The discipline of stacking has far reaching implications that we are only partially aware of in the moment. Aristotle spoke to this when he wrote, “for as it is not one swallow or one fine day that makes a spring, so it is not one day or a short time that makes a man blessed and happy.”
I will end with my opening thoughts in The Hard Work Of Happiness:
I am among the fortunate who can answer with confidence the age-old question of, “Why am I here?” It is my profound privilege and purpose to help others learn how to alleviate unnecessary suffering. By doing so what is left is sacred and sacred suffering has a purpose. If we must suffer, and we all must, then let us suffer well and together. By suffering well we write new endings to our painful stories. Through this intentional act of rewriting our history we redeem those lonely, dark nights of despair into stories of resilience. As we heal, the love we are given and the love we give become the ultimate, defining purpose of life filling our cups to overflowing with gratitude and joy. May your life be rid of all unnecessary suffering and may it be filled with an abundance of compassion, calmness, courage, creativity, clarity, connectedness, confidence, and curiosity. May you free yourself from unnecessary burdens and wrestle well with your sacred suffering.