What Makes a Good Life ?

Photo by Vonecia Carswell on Unsplash

My friend Barb texted about a podcast featuring Dr. Robert Waldinger and entitled "What Makes a Good Life? Lessons From the Longest Study on Happiness." Dr. Waldinger is a Zen master,  psychiatrist, and program director of the 80 plus year old series of studies known as the " Harvard Study of Adult Development." Here's a link to podcast

Studies began in 1938 and eventually included 2000 plus participants. Data were collected through surveys, interviews and study of medical records. Harvard scientists began tracking the health of 268 sophomores in 1938, hoping that the longitudinal study would reveal clues to leading healthy and happy lives. Women were not part of the 1938 sample because Harvard did not admit women in 1938. 

 In the 1970s, 456 Boston inner-city residents were enlisted as part of the study. As time passed, researchers included wives of the members of the 1938 sample and of the Boston sample. Another study focused on children of  the original participants with the aim of understanding the effect of childhood experiences on midlife health.

Researchers concluded that close positive relationships are what keep us happy throughout our lives. Our nurturing relationships protect us from life’s discontents, delay mental and physical decline, and are better predictors of long and happy lives than social class, IQ, or even genes. These findings were true for both the Harvard men and the Boston inner-city participants. Link to article for more information.

Dr. Waldinger during the podcast stressed that the study's findings don't mean that introverts are less happy than extroverts. Happiness is not depended on the number of relationships with people. What's an important factor influencing life long happiness is intentionally maintaining supportive relationships over time; may they be relatives or friends. He also stressed the importance of at least one very supportive person who will "cover your back", when needed. 

In other words, what makes a good life are positive human relationships that are nurtured over time. Many of us became acutely aware of the importance of close relationships during the pandemic as illustrated by the following poem written on May 19, 2021.

You Don’t Know Me But

Laura Grace Weldon

I miss you, fellow walkers – dad with double stroller,
rainbow legging woman, earnest black hound hauling
graybeard man on a never-slack leash.
I miss the Marc’s check-out clerk with three nose rings,
bitten nails, sardonic asides.
Miss the librarian whose voice is soft as my mother’s was
back when I sobbed myself weak, her hand
stroking my hair while she looked out the window.

Wherever you are now, I wish you well. Cast light around you
each night before sleep. I want your granny to pull through,
your job to stick around, your landlord to grant you
every dispensation. I want flowers
to sprout in your garbage, old milk to turn into yogurt.
May your junk mail transform into loans forgiven,
scholarships granted, grievances forgotten.
May we see each other soon, smile in recognition,
reimagine a world where we all breathe free.

Weldon's poem illustrates another characteristic of the Harvard study's findings about the importance of relationships. Casual exchanges such as greeting "fellow walkers" or small talk with strangers are important because they connect us to humanity and counter loneliness. According to the American Psychiatric Association's February 2024  monthly poll, 1 in 3 Americans said they felt lonely at least once a week over the past year. 

Tending Prospect Gardens with volunteers continues to be one way I create and maintain nurturing relationships while cultivating a sense of community. I suspect this may be true for others who volunteer their energy and time. 

Fifteen years ago volunteers began transforming a once weed infested site into what now is an area of prairie plants and perennials, along with a raspberry patch and two cherry trees. In the spirit of a community, on a clear and sunny April 13th, thirteen volunteers joined Ann B., my wife, and me as we once again tended the Gardens. 

Pictured are seven of the 13 volunteers and me. Starting on the left bottom step and going up are Annette, Eleanor, a West High School Leo Club member, Rajeev, another Leo Club member and club President, me, Nick, Astrid, Becky and Madeleine, the third Leo Club member.  Not pictured are Ann B, Eric, Laura, Marcel, James, Alice, and Sheila. 

Thank you. I am grateful that you took time from your busy schedules. Your generosity sustains a site that benefits our neighborhood, users of the Southwest Path, as well as birds, insects, butterflies and small animals.

Socializing happens while working and during a break which builds community and nurtures relationships. For example, during  our break Astrid shared pictures of her trip to see the eclipse with her partner and some friends. While working with Becky, I learned about her college experiences.  

Alice and James weeding the Regent side of the Gardens.  Both have volunteered in the past. Creeping Charlie was among the day's targeted weeds. 

Sheila also weeded the Regent side along with Marcel, her friend. Later that day Sheila returned and transplanted red bee balm from her yard. Thank you Sheila. 

Sheila participated in past work day sessions. This was Marcel's first group work session. Last season she along with Sheila worked in the Gardens on their own schedules. 

I learned what's happening in the adult lives of Sheila's son and daughter. As a former nearby neighbor, I watched both of them grow up. I  have pleasant memories of her daughter and a friend as young children performing an adlibbed play during a neighborhood gathering. The play did not have an end and  Sheila's daughter wanted to continue adding scenes. Sheila successfully intervened. 

Nick pulling weeds on the Regent side while Astrid worked on rehabilitating the raspberry patch. Nick is a returnee while this was Astrid's first time. Astrid and I were colleagues when we  were on the staff of the Environmental Resource Center. 

Astrid completed the Wisconsin Naturalist program and is knowledgeable about raspberries. I nicknamed her the "Raspberry Czarnina." The canes are in bad shape and at least half of the patch has disappeared. Yes, I know the usual challenge is stopping raspberries from spreading.   

As Astrid worked on the patch, we shared possible reasons for the declining patch. Astrid thinks that the rocks may prevent the canes' roots from spreading. I wondered if it was something in the soil. If you have any ideas about causes and suggestions for improvement, please contact me. Perhaps testing the soil is the next step.

A silhouette of Laura, a frequent, long term volunteer chatting with Eric. This was Eric first time. I met Eric about 25 years ago. He co-led our church's Coming of Age class which our daughter Emily attended . Barb who provided the podcast was the other teacher. They and the class took a train trip to Boston, the location of  the Unitarian Universalist church's national headquarters.  

Eric loved riddles, as did Emily and her friend Emily G. While on the train, Eric presented the riddles and the two girls joyfully attempted to solve them.    

Leo Club members, Eleanor, Madeleine, and Rajeev dug out ditch day lilies; not an easy task. Becky also spent the morning removing lilies.  

The lilies took over the upper flat area of this section. Native plants and grasses will replace the intruders while the lilies remain on the slope. Percy, another frequent volunteer, will provide monarda (bergamot) and spiderwort, surplus from another prairie project she leads. Thank you Percy. Also thank you Gregory for working in the Gardens on April 8th.  

Besides renewing past relationships and creating new ones, the work session provided opportunities to experience this season of renewal. Here's a few examples of the Garden's renewal .

Blue bells have found their own way into the Gardens. May they continue to self-seed and spread. Always an early welcome to Spring.

Black current blossoms. These were planted fifteen years ago and unlike the raspberries, they are thriving.  Looks like there will be a bountiful harvest. 

One of the revitalized raspberry canes. May you regain your potency and spread. More rocks will be removed from the patch.

This golden yellow forsythia on the Fox Avenue side announces Spring. Patricia and Jim, neighbors near the Gardens, donated the initial plant some years ago . Patricia and Jim recently worked in the Gardens and took down one of the orange snow fences. They also provide access to their water and use of their wheelbarrow. Thank you Patricia and Jim. 

Some of you are familiar with Max Coots' poem "A Harvest of People", which was in a  past post. It's worth repeating and is an appropriate ending to this post. The poem, like the Harvard study, underscores how positive human relationships makes for a good life.   

 A Harvest of People

Let us give thanks for a bounty of people:

For generous friends, with smiles as bright as their blossoms.
For feisty friends as tart as apples;
For continuous friends who, like scallions and cucumbers, keep reminding us that we’ve had them.
For crotchety friends, as sour as rhubarb and as indestructible;
For handsome friends, who are as gorgeous as eggplants and as elegant as a row of corn; and the others as plain as potatoes and as good for you.
For friends as unpretentious as cabbages, as subtle as summer squash, as persistent as parsley, as endless as zucchini, and who, like parsnips, can be counted on to see you through the winter.
For old friends, nodding like sunflowers in the evening-time.
For young friends, who wind around like tendrils and hold us.

We give thanks for friends now gone, like gardens past that have been harvested, but who fed us in their times that we might live.

Thank you and be well.

P.S. 

A Canadian goose patiently nesting is another sign of Spring's renewal. She is a short walk from our apartment. You can find her in front of a Sycamore tree on Arbor Drive and along the shoreline of  Lake Wingra's backwaters. In about a month, goslings will join the world. Praise be!      

 

 
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Equanimity

 Since my last posting I have had many opportunities to practice equanimity. Besides coping with disturbing world and national events, stress increased when in early January a mild form of COVID  found Ann and me. Maybe we were exposed during a visit to Meriter's ER after my blood pressure spiked. Why it spiked is a story for another time. After a few weeks and a change in meds, blood pressure readings stabilized but to this day, a pesky and irritating dry cough is my companion.  

This 45 year old mobile illustrates equanimity. I made the mobile in celebration of marrying Ann. I found the pieces on the property of a friend's log cabin near Florence, Wisconsin. I made several mobiles during that time period (late 1970s) and two others are still with me.  

Building mobiles involves selecting, placing, and balancing different objects each with their unique traits. Alexander Calder's mobiles and  his static "stabiles " were my inspirations, while recognizing that mine would never be in the same class. I once intended to learn how to weld so I could make a Calder-like stabile (a large standing metal sculpture). Maybe there is still time to do that? Where would I put it?  Prospect Gardens?

Ruth King, a noted Buddhist teacher, uses the metaphor of nature to explain equanimity.  See Ruth's article

"We might begin to understand this power using nature as a metaphor. For example, equanimity can feel internally like a great mountain, with the mind solid and stable, undisturbed by the changing seasons. Or it can be like the ocean, with the mind vast, deep, and immeasurable, undisturbed by whatever swims, floats, or is housed in its waters. Equanimity can be like a strong fire — roaring, engulfing, and transmuting, undisturbed by whatever is thrown into it. Or like immense space — open, allowing, and receiving, undisturbed by the objects that arise and pass away." 

How do we cultivate equanimity? Notice I used "cultivate" instead of "achieve" which can lead to striving. Striving or an attitude of "I'm going to do this" can be counter productive leading to frustration. A friendly, curious tone is better. 

Equanimity in Buddhism is often taught within the context of four paired worldly winds. You can think of these as agreeable and disagreeable conditions of life. Moments of praise and blame, success and failure, pleasure and pain, gain and loss are woven into our lives. Equanimity involves responding to the winds by recognizing that they are part of  life, reacting to them as calmly as possible, and by knowing that they are impermanent. As my devote Catholic mother would say, "this too shall pass." 

Another way to cultivate equanimity is by setting the conditions for it, as exemplified in Margaret Renkl's book, "The Comfort of Crows, A Backyard Year."  A few weeks ago, I unexpectedly received this beautifully illustrated book from Jeanne, a friend. Thank you Jeanne. The book shows how mindfulness and reflection give rise to equanimity.

Short passages describe the particular object of Renkl's mindfulness and include what she learns from the experience. Most of the natural phenomena she observes are in her backyard  with its birdhouses, birdbaths, a butterfly garden, and native plants, or in parks and natural areas within her hometown of  Nashville. Her backyard has no lawn.

Renkl is very mindful of her surroundings. What mindfulness means in practice is a topic for another time. For now consider mindfulness as paying close attention to what arises in the moment (may what arises be pleasant or unpleasant), and without judgement or attachment. It doesn't mean just paying attention to the pleasant or pleasurable in the search to feel better.  

Below is Renkl's short introduction to a section about spring. This reminds me of our current unusual early spring weather. 

Spring Week 1 

"The world does not proceed according to our plans. The world is an old dog, following us around the kitchen with its eyes. The world understands us. We understand nothing, control less.

Today its springtime. Every green thing has grown greener as the pines send out new growth. Every brown thing is taking on green as the hardwoods wake into warmth. But tonight the black sky is spitting out ice, and the green sap rising will likewise turn to ice in the dark. Some of these frail green things will be blasted forever, but most will live. Life is what life does.

We, too, will live. In the morning we will wake and rejoice, for we are once more among the living."

The book reminds me to be especially mindful during my daily walks. One rule is don't look at that cell phone which records steps taken. Except for a few days during the peak of COVID, I have walked; usually fewer miles and at a slower pace than normal  Here's a few phenomena from these walks that generated mindfulness, reflection, and sometimes equanimity.  

Somebody spent hours craving this chair located in Glenway Children's Park, a short walk from our apartment. Or perhaps a chainsaw artist created it. What's fascinating is that the chair is one solid piece rather than separate ones put together. 

The chair reminds me of our need to rest both physically and mentally. Or perhaps it could be an altar waiting for sacred objects?  What important objects would you place on this altar? 

Nearby the chair and on a steep hill is a  limestone council ring with a fire pit. The  limestone most likely came from the park, which was once a quarry. If the spirit moves me, I walk up the steep incline, sit mindfully, and wait patiently for equanimity to arise. Many times it does.

Council rings support community and underscore the importance of collaboration and the pursuit of truth. Dudgeon- Monroe neighbors gather within the ring and around a roaring fire each winter solstice. An ancient ritual is once again repeated. Children and adults usher in the increasing dark days and honor the fading light while enjoying the bonfire and s'mores.  

Years ago, Don, a fellow Unitarian-Universalist Chalice group member, performed another ritual within the council ring. Don, dressed in appropriate robes officiated a Wiccan inspired marriage ceremony, including chants and blessings. 

A few days ago I heard the sharp calls of these two sandhill cranes as I walked on the other north side of the Vilas Park Lagoons. They were on the opposite side. Their calls enticed me to walk over to the other side for a closer look.  

While winter was slipping away, the calls of these unperturbed gracious birds seemed to praise the upcoming spring. They also seemed equanimous about the snow and the cold wind off of Lake Wingra that brushed against my face.

More days in the low 60's are predicted. Yes this is pleasant while reminding me of the climate crisis. According to an online source our weather will become warmer over the next few decades, with average temperatures closer to southern Illinois or Missouri. So far we had one snow storm. It wasn't like those that I frequently experienced as a child on our family farm. Those storms were brutal and could last for a few days. All of us, including the cranes, will continue to be affected by our rapidly changing climate. 

This rock within Lake Wingra Springs, located in the UW Arboretum across the street from our apartment, reminds me of a heart embraced by watercress. I saw it around Valentine's Day. A few springs ago, I watched women picking watercress. Did they know that early settlers in our area used the springs for water and perhaps harvested watercress? The hearty plant grows year round in springs that don't freeze such as this one. 

The Ho Chunk once lived on land now part of our westside neighborhoods. Springs have spiritual meaning to the Ho Chunk. Springs are places for gratitude, reverence, and links to the underworld. They were also once sources of water and food for the Ho Chunk..

During warm days I may sit near the edge of Lake Wingra Springs. Peace (another word for equanimity) reigns as birds splash in the rushing waters and warm breezes caress my face and bare arms. 

A few days ago I went on my daily walk despite feeling fatigued and tired of the persistent cough. The day was cold and overcast. A few ice pellets were falling and snow was predicted. As I rounded a corner, a flash of yellow in the distance caught my attention. Coming closer I recognized the winter aconite covering the entire front yard of a modest brown house. 

The brilliant yellow lifted my spirits. Feeling less fatigued and rather equanimous I continued my walk. I cut over a block to check out if there was a new poem on the stand in the front yard of another modest home. Nope. Same poem about September was still up. Maybe a new one will be posted now that spring is unfolding. I will watch for it. 

 What does this rock wall terrace within Prospect Gardens have to do with equanimity? The picture was taken shortly after the first warm days in early February. Usually this area would be covered with a blanket of snow, protecting plants, insects, and small animals like the chipmunks. I hope to be equanimous as we witness the effects of this mild winter on Prospect Gardens.

 The terrace also represents acceptance of existing conditions and in this case, rocks. Acceptance is another condition supporting equanimity. How we addressed the rocks is also relevant to equanimity. We did not give up or become indifferent to the rocks when we began developing the Gardens 14 years ago. Instead we created beds by removing rocks and filled the holes with new dirt or we built terraces like this one. 

At a societal level, the great late Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese Buddhist monastic and peace activist, taught  that we must be engaged with society and do our part in resolving daunting problems. Being equanimous helps figure out what's possible. We avoid being indifferent, frustrated, or in despair. Instead we are stable and calmly decide what actions are possible as an individual and/or collectively.

   

Another way to cultivate equanimity is through formal sitting meditation. Many teachers provide guided equanimity practices. Jack Kornfield, a long time noted Buddhist teacher has a short practice at this link.  A Google search of equanimity practice will result in many more teachers and practices.  

Cultivating equanimity through reading and reflecting on poetry is the final option I offer.  Here's one by Mary Oliver.

Sleeping in the Forest

I thought the earth remembered me,

she took me back so tenderly,

arranging her dark skirts, her pockets

full of lichens and seeds.

I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,

nothing between me and the white fire of the stars

but my thoughts, and they floated light as moths

among the branches of the perfect trees.

All night I heard the small kingdoms

breathing around me, the insects,

and the birds who do their work in the darkness.

All night I rose and fell, as if in water,

grappling with a luminous doom. By morning

I had vanished at least a dozen times

into something better.

Thank you for your time and attention. Be well.