Are You Guys Brothers?

     Recently, I wrote to a young man who is in prison for life because he participated in a crime in which someone died. His name, and the reminder of the circumstances of his offense, cause extraordinary anger and hatred among many people. He wrote to me because he had read my book Are You Guys Brothers? and it helped him get in touch with his lifelong fear of his sexual feelings. He said he felt that his life was just beginning and that being in prison was a wake-up call. In my response, I reminded him that we are not what we did but who we choose to be. He has many, many years ahead of him to live. What other people think of him shouldn’t impact his happiness. If you own your guilt and make amends, you are free to move on and to experience joy.

     Yesterday, I spoke on the phone with a dear friend who has had one bad diagnosis of cancer after another. She acknowledged that she and her life partner often cry together now with a feeling of discouragement and loss. Here is a woman who has literally stopped to smell the roses. I have often watched her spend time reflecting on a thought, thoroughly appreciating a piece of music, and laughing with delight at the sheer beauty of nature.  Her tears are normal and good, I said, but I also reminded her to breathe and to smile.

      “Say that again,” she said. “My hearing is bad.”

      “Smile,” I repeated. “When we make a smile on our face, and when we breathe, our body relaxes and feels joy.

     “You are so right,” she said appreciatively. “Thank you for reminding me of that.”

     Joy is not something that comes our way. It’s a decision we make to accept the happiness in our lives. Joy is always available, I think. All it requires to experience it is the awareness that it’s there and the willingness to accept it. Putting on a big smile helps. If you smile, you feel joyful, even if you’re in prison for life or have just been told you have inoperable cancer.

     While sitting in the movie theater the other day, watching The International and eating popcorn with Ray and our friend Milton, I thought, “I love this! I’m really happy.”  So, I smiled broadly and I felt joy. In Buddhism, that’s referred to as “being present” or “being in the moment.” I had the same experience of spine-tingling bliss this morning as I emerged from the ocean and focused on Ray’s beautiful smile as he sat on the beach watching me. “I’m really lucky,” I said, in the absence of another word. I again smiled broadly and I felt joy.

     It seems so obvious, and the evidence of its truthfulness is easily experienced. Smile. You’ll feel more relaxed and happier. So, why don’t I do it all of the time? What am I waiting for? It feels good to experience joy. So, why do I do it so infrequently?

     Sometimes I think that I’m afraid to fully experience the goodness and happiness of my life because if I do it will be taken away from me. Sometimes I fear that others will resent me for being happy. And sometimes, I even feel that it is a social injustice and criminal for me to feel joy when so many others throughout the world are miserable, as if my being unhappy will make them happier.

     Where do we get these unhealthy ideas – from society, from the Church, from the family? There’s lots of blame to go around.

      “What are you smiling about?” asks the nun with the wagging finger. “Go sit in the corner until you take that smirk off of your face.”

     “Why do you look so happy?” asks the parent. “What have you been up to?”

     “What’s so funny?” asks the coach to the male athletes. “When you girls are finished giggling, let me know.”

     “Don’t smile at anyone on the street,” the urban-savvy friend advises. “It makes you an easy mark.” 

     “Get a grip,” says the older sibling. “You look like an idiot.”  

     These are only a handful of the many, many messages we get throughout our lives to be grim, sad, and serious. All of them are the roadblocks we face in experiencing joy.

     But one of the positive things about being older, or in prison for the rest of your life, or diagnosed with cancer, can be that you don’t worry about looking like an idiot, and you’re  no longer afraid of the disapproval of the nuns, your high school coach, your family members, or the people on the street, the movie theater or the beach.

     We know that joy can make us giggle and that we don’t have to do anything to end up looking happy other than to be in the moment, to breathe, to smile, and to accept.

     Why is it only when we’re having our pictures taken that we’re told to smile? Is it so we have some proof of being happy at some time? (“Look how happy you were then.”) Or perhaps because we’re better looking when we smile? (“Isn’t that a handsome smile.”) Or maybe it’s because the people who are displaying the photos feel better about life when they’re surrounded by our smiling faces.

     Okay then. On the count of three, everyone smile.