If you want to be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife . . . Or so goes Jimmy Soul’s recipe for marital contentment. Sort of a re-visioning of Proverbs 31, I suppose — and just about as popular nowadays (talk about a sexist stance!) Perhaps a bit more substance is required in cooking up a formula for this sometimes elusive state — happiness, not marital contentment (although they do somehow seem to be related).

A few months ago, I’d had a look at the benefits of ‘being happy’ (The Glass Is . . .) with a quick overview of The Happiness Advantage (Shawn Achor) and Authentic Happiness (Martin Seligman), the latter author/researcher offering a whack of variables that he feels might underpin this golden fleece of mindsets. Both feel optimism is an important element.

And now, from that hotbed of happiness (Missouri) comes some research from Harvey James, an academic economist (now there’s an optimistic group!) that might expand our formula a bit: Ethical people are satisfied people, or to quote Plato, ‘the just man is happy, the unjust man, miserable’. Harvey’s findings are summed up: ‘happiness is derived from doing well (ed note: not sure if he doesn’t also mean ‘doing good’, in the grammatically correct sense) and from meeting psychological rather than material or hedonistic needs. While income, personal characteristics, and societal values play a role in affecting happiness, so do personal ethics. If the goal of public policy is to improve subjective well-being, and if subjective well-being increases when people are just, the efforts to improve the moral behavior of people will also improve overall societal well-being’.

James, true to his researcher’s roots, is not about to say that the relationship between ethical behaviour and life satisfaction is a causal one; that is, that doing good / behaving justly causes one to be happier (any more than being happy causes one to do good!) What he is saying is that these two are related, possibly thru’ a collection of ‘third factors’, and that higher levels of intolerance for unethical situations is generally found in people with greater measures of satisfaction with their life states.

A bit of reflection on this relationship suggests that it makes good, intuitive sense. If I notice that the cashier has given me back change for a $20, when it should have been a $10 and I draw her attention to the oversight, we both leave the situation with a sense of well-being (although I’m $10 less well off for the trouble!). If I do a ‘cash only’ transaction in my work, I’m ‘saving’ the government’s bite; but might find myself checking the mail for months after I file that return, just waiting for the notice of audit. Not a very good use of time or focus — and easily avoided.

Seligman, in his taxonomy of (happiness-inducing) signature strengths, identifies a very similar element, which he labels integrity, grouping it together under the rubric of courage, along with bravery, perseverance and diligence, and in particular, honesty and genuineness. He defines integrity in his use of the word as ‘more than just telling the truth to others; (it means) representing yourself — your intentions and commitments — to others and to yourself — in a sincere fashion, in word and deed’.

Mindfulness teachings may just have scooped Dr. James (sorry, Harvey) on this one by a few millennia. These are couched in the Eight-fold Path (essentially Buddhist guidelines for living life) and more broadly as they address the three Liberating Trainings. These would be meditation / mindfulness practice itself, cultivation of wisdom, and ethical behaviour. The latter, in turn, is comprised of Right Speech, Right Action, and Right Livelihood. And perhaps therein lies the core — when practicing, amongst all the other benefits that seem to accrue, we feel freed. James speculates that the illusive ‘third factor’ (relating satisfaction and ethics) may be a ‘freedom from guilt or shame’.

As we move from the daily sit back into the world, mindfulness practice then is more than carrying that sense of calm, ground, and centre into the rest of our day. It is choosing the way in which we engage that day: the relationships it brings us in contact with (and how we respect or value those exchanges), the choice points that are often subtly fraught with decisions pitting altruism against personal gain, bringing empathy and compassion into our dealings — and being mindful in all these choices. All this, secure in the knowledge (now that Harvey’s done his math) that we will be more content at the end of that day.

Now here’s an original thought: ‘baseball as a metaphor for life’! Having spent too many hours to count in front of games six and seven of the World Series, it was hard not to absorb some of the wisdom (no groans, please) of the seasoned manager, Tony LaRussa, that pulled the Cards from the brink of elimination likely a few dozen times between mid-August and the finale of the ‘October classic’. For those of you who spent great chunks of Thursday and Friday night listening to the attached commentary, it was quite impossible (evidently almost as impossible as St. Louis winning this year’s version) not to hear of the unlikely story of overcoming a 10.5 game deficit to catch the Braves on the season’s final day; for the ‘Carps’ (aka Chris Carpenter) beating the Phillies’ best (Roy Halliday for those of you who were never a Blue Jay fan!) — only to face the remaining National League favourites, Milwaukee. Not to be awed by, down to their final strike — not once, but twice — this model of resilience and tenacity forcing a game seven. . . and then to win it all (as the cliche goes).

Buried in the blizzard of commentator hyperbole and expressed disbelief was a little gem that just may have some relevance to mindfulness practice. And attributed not to the fickle gods of baseball (be they human or heavenly), nor to the various and sundry candidates for this year’s version of ‘Mr. October’ (turned out to be David Freese clothed in all his mid-western humility). But in fact to the sometime disgraced hitting coach of the Cardinals: Mark McGwire. His advice to his hitters: don’t try to hit the ball to a particular spot on the field.

Perhaps a bit of connective linkage between this folksy intelligence and mindfulness may help. The expanded version of his counsel is first, you need to see the ball. (Stay with me here — we are navigating our way thru’ baseball cliche after all.) In baseball parlance, ‘seeing’ means attending to all the nuances of what’s coming down the tube toward you, as batter, at something between 140 and 150 KPH: ball rotation, pitch plane, pitcher release point, etc., etc. That also means resisting the urge to ‘predict’ what you think might be about to happen — generally leading to a swing that, in the exaggerated baseball babble of the colour commentator, has you ‘coming out of your shoes’ (overswinging), ‘being late’ (thought you’d get a curve and were greeted by ‘high heat’ — a fastball), or frankly being embarrassed in some other way. In meditative terminology: being very present.

Once you’ve ‘seen’ the ball, concentrate on hitting it to the same spot on the field each time — according to Mr. McGwire’s wisdom, if possible, the middle of the park. Conjures up visions of seven fielders lined up and spaced out (as it were) behind the pitcher, just waiting for the highly predictable, middle of the field smack. Again advice that sounds very counter-intuitive, not to mention counter-productive. Implies that, if the hitter is successful, he will dump the ball to the shortstop or centre fielder each time he makes contact (which, for most of the spear carriers in the game will be about one time in four). Baseball lore demands, given the myriad of different scenarios possible when a batter comes to the plate, that you might ‘pull the ball’, or perhaps ‘hit it the other way’, keep in on the ground, slap it, bunt it, knock its cover off, and on and on. Mr. McGwire would have none of this. He rebuts all the naysayers with another truth: the pitch will determine where you hit it; your job is to just hit it. Again, in translation: the universe will provide the scenario — we don’t get to say; our job is to take that circumstance and greet it consistently, bringing to it that same non-judging, fully aware, acceptance of ‘what is’. Attempting to control an outcome, wishing the situation to be otherwise (being prepared for a fastball and getting something off-speed) is not part of the deal. The slider down and out over the plate will go the other way; the fastball, squarely meeting a bat swung with every bit as much speed as the ball contacting it, will find its way over the fence.

Not to say that Tony didn’t have a piece in all this as well. Following a hugely entertaining, albeit keystone-coppish game six (outfielders tripping over each other, MVP’s dropping ‘routine fly balls’, catchers throwing to the fan behind the centre field fence instead of the second baseman) capped with the dramatic triple, then home run of Mr. Freese, the team’s manager had the wisdom to remind his players that yesterday is yesterday — and it has absolutely nothing to do with today beyond allowing us to show up for one more day of work. Now is now. Then is then — and ne’er will the twain meet, except for losers. In the words of Jon Kabat-Zinn’s catchy book title: wherever you go, there you are.

The reward for trailing along behind my mother as she surveyed the wares of Hens and Kelly’s, Kleinhan’s, and the myriad other department stores along Main St. in Buffalo, was our visit to the Mayflower. The little donut shop, wildly predating Timmy’s and the ilk, offered more than just Saturday afternoon treats. Lettered below its distinctive schooner of a logo were the wise and cautionary words: “As you ramble on through life, brother (bear in mind this was 1955!), whatever be your goal, keep your eye upon the donut — and not upon the hole!” Would that goal attainment and the rocky road to building sustainable habits was that easy. (Frankly, if the goal is effective weight control — we may have a serious problem with that advice in any event.)

Nevertheless, as I dissected this little aphorism, more and more it seemed to contain the elements necessary to navigating this path – just in need of a little ‘fleshing out’, as it were. So, in search of a better mouse trap, I first thumbed through The Habit Factor — maybe not as tasty, but with a bit more substance than our little shop of delights. Martin Grunburg’s recent offering, is a (painstakingly thorough) analysis of the relationship between goals and habits, unorthodoxly (but not originally*) placing the emphasis on habit being the roadway to goal attainment; the latter often being left more to happenstance than a planned and carefully executed, gradual process. And I began to consider applications for establishing and maintaining a regular, meditative practice that eludes many us.

Grunburg maps out a six-step process beginning with the identification of a goal, in specific terms, written out, and having some inherent value to us. While this might sound like an obvious starting point, he notes that ‘you can’t achieve what you can’t see’; rather the equivalent of knowing you want to go on a holiday – need to go on a holiday! – then setting off on the trip without much of an idea of your destination; or for that matter, what route you plan to follow. (All very adventurous and 1970’s to just ‘hit the road’ – but decidedly vulnerable to getting side-tracked and never really arriving anywhere.) In addition to setting start and end dates, he underscores the importance of ‘capturing the ‘why’’ of the goal, then visualizing what it will look like once achieved. Again perhaps a self-evident step, but one that such common ‘goals’ as quitting smoking, losing weight, etc. might fail to quantify or specify. (I would question whether achieving such ‘negative states’ even constitutes a goal – and perhaps need to be reframed in positive, identifiable increases in behaviour – than the absence of same; again, somewhat like planning the vacation around where you don’t want to go!) The ‘why’ is as much associated with the goal’s value to you, the emotional energy (aka ‘investment’) that it embodies, as the act or achievement itself. He suggests identifying the various dimensions of one’s life (sometimes summarized as the body-mind-spirit triad) that might be reasonably included in specifying the personal importance of a goal; the logic being that the broader the connection or impact, the more likely it will be achieved.

As an example, our son Andrew identified as a three-year goal – commencing March 2011 – the public performance in recital of Bach’s complete organ oeuvre. Anyone who has known this young man for any length of time is well-acquainted with his ‘spiritual connection’ to his music: most certainly his passion and quite possibly the main vehicle through which he has explored his spirituality. Learning this body of composition is a challenge to any ‘mind’ — most certain to change and expand the ‘mental’ elements of his being. And to watch an organist perform is to marvel at the coordination, the physical ‘inclusiveness’ of having hands and feet flying over two (or more commonly, three or even four) separated manuals (keyboards) – pushing and pulling stops (as in ‘pulling out all the . . .’) as they play. Body…mind…spirit.

To carry Grunburg’s ‘formula’ further, he underscores the importance of setting milestones, breaking the meta goal into smaller, more quickly achievable, interim stages – again, not a new strategy, but one that is often given short shrift. And finally, and this is perhaps the most useful contribution of the author’s approach, engaging in what he calls ‘habit alignment’, identifying the regular, measurable parts of your day that, when performed will lead you to your goal. What I believe he is describing is process whereby, once having identified the above elements of the goal itself, we essentially let go of that ‘target’ – not forgetting about it – but equally resisting the urge to chronically measure the size of the gap between our present position and our desired destination. Instead to put our energy into daily routines, a practice if you will, that, when engaged regularly will produce, almost as a side effect, our goal. (Consider how undermining and emotionally charged the act of climbing on the scales to ‘measure our success’ might be; when the habit structure is that of tracking and shaping food intake when attempting to reach a weight goal.) Running a race of significant distance or in a shorter time is far more constructively approached by focusing on the daily regimen of proper hydration, supportive diet, appropriate sleep, regular exercise periods with a particular focus or intent, receiving the helpful guidance of a coach or trainer – than calculating the difference between a goal and present capability. Trusting the preparatory process (the ‘alignment of habits’) is a far more sustainable practice. Participating in the regimen for its own sake – than for what it may (or may not) produce down the road.

The habit alignment phase suggests picking three to five ‘core’ habits that support and relate to the goal; identifying minimum criteria for the daily practice of each; writing down the contributory importance of each; and then tracking attainment.

Applications for this approach abound – one of the most intriguing for me is cultivation of a mindfulness practice. The goal: regular daily meditation. Instead of simply stating this laudible (albeit vague and poor defined) objective, then crossing my fingers (or legs in a lotus more likely) and hoping that things maintain, how much more useful to apply Grunburg’s little formula to the supportive habit structure that attaches to this goal. Why is it important to me? How does it relate to the triadic dimensions of my life? What are the habits, the behaviours, I need to incorporate into my day to support the goal? What are the intermediate goals? Where do I find a community that supports this goal? What do I track?

And so back to the Mayflower and its sage advice: a lifetime process, focusing on something you value (at nine years of age, donuts certainly filled that bill!), that has ‘substance’ (not the ‘hole’, the ‘negative goal’), in a supportive community (brother, sister, whomever!). Not bad for a little shop at the corner of Mohawk and Main.

*Two of the founding principals of Esalen, an alternate teaching community in California, Michael Murphy and George Leonard, explore very similar territory in their book, The Life We Are Given (Establishing an Integrated, Transformative, Practice): beginning with written affirmations, establishing time lines, defining a daily ‘Kata’ (a 40-minute routine that incorporates a balancing and centering activity, a yoga series, a period of visulaizaiton, and a 10-minute meditation; within a context of – think body, mind, spirit – mindfulness of both diet and physical exercise), and engaging in a community of like-interested individuals on a weekly basis.