“Spending out” also meant not being rigidly efficient. The other night, Jamie and I rented Junebug—an extraordinary movie, all about the nature of love and happiness. I was tempted to watch a few of my favorite scenes again after we saw it the first time, but I decided that would be a “waste” of time. Then I remembered my resolution, which included spending out my time. After all, I know that sometimes the things I do when I’m wasting time turn out to be quite worthwhile. I went to “Scene Selection” to re-watch the scene at the church social.
The most important meaning of “Spend out,” however, is not to be a scorekeeper, not to stint on love and generosity. This was related to my February resolution, “Don’t expect praise or appreciation.” I wanted to stop constantly demanding praise or insisting on getting paid back. Saint Thérèse of Lisieux wrote, “When one loves, one does not calculate.” I’m a big calculator, always looking for a return, especially with Jamie.
“I gave Eleanor a bath last night, so you…”
“I let you take a nap, so you…”
“I had to make the plane reservations, so you…”
No! Spend out. Don’t think about the return. “It is by spending oneself,” the actress Sarah Bernhardt remarked, “that one becomes rich.” What’s more, one intriguing study showed that Sarah Bernhardt’s pronouncement is literally true: people who give money to charity end up wealthier than those who don’t give to charity. After doing complex number crunching to control for different variables, a researcher concluded that charitable giving isn’t just correlated with higher income; it actually causes higher income. Some explanations for this surprising effect include the brain stimulation caused by charitable activity and also the fact that those who are seen behaving charitably are likely to be elevated to leadership positions.
It’s certainly true in my household that spending out creates a wealth of love and tenderness, while calculation and scorekeeping build resentment.
To keep this important yet elusive resolution uppermost in my mind, I maintained a relic. In one of my last visits to my grandmother before she died, I picked up the My Sin perfume that had been sitting on her bureau for as long as I could remember. The bottle was still in its box, and when I opened it, I saw that it was still full to the top. I didn’t ask her about it, but I’m sure someone, many years ago, gave her that bottle of perfume and she was “saving it.” For what? After she died, I took the box home with me, and I keep it in my office to remind me to “Spend out.”
I posted on my blog about that bottle of perfume, and several readers responded with their own experiences of “spending out.”
* * *
Your story reminds me of some pretty linen napkins that I found in my mother’s house after she died. I lived in that house for a LONG time and never even SAW those napkins. She was apparently “saving” them. For what, I have no idea. But she never did get to use them. Now they’re mine and I’m sure as heck gonna use them the next time I have someone over for dinner, which come to think of it, is tomorrow night!
Life is too short to save your good china or your good lingerie or your good ANYTHING for later because truly, later may never come.
I can’t believe that there is someone else out there that does this, too! I have struggled with this for years. I realized it WAS contributing to my mental dismalness! I thought I should be keeping some of my new, better stuff just in case of (so pessimistic, here!) “bad days ahead.” Sadly, I found that I have even pushed it over on my own daughter (i.e., don’t use up all the battery power in your toys!). I think that’s when I realized it. Now, I am on the track to using it all up today…’cause who knows about tomorrow!
I learned this lesson painfully. When I was a child, my grandparents gave me a very elaborate box of art supplies for Hanukkah—really beautiful paints, brushes, chalks, paper, etc. I kept “saving it,” planning to use it only once I was a better artist, because I didn’t want to waste any of these treasures. (As a kid, you really do see yourself getting more skillful, so this wasn’t totally crazy.) One day, I happened to look for the box, and couldn’t find it. My mother said, “Oh, you never touched that art set, so I figured you weren’t interested.” She’d taken it to the thrift shop! I was crushed. But I’ve never forgotten it. Sometimes “later” becomes “never.”
* * *
GIVE SOMETHING UP.
Sometimes something that makes you happy also makes you unhappy, like smoking cigarettes, having one more cupcake, staying up until 3:00 A.M. to watch The Godfather for the fifth time, and—surely one of the most popular happy/unhappy activities—shopping. Many people get a big kick out of buying things, but once they’re home, cash register happiness changes to remorse and guilt.
Although I’m generally an underbuyer, every once in a while I do switch to a “Buy” setting; a friend once described this as my “drive-by shopping mode.” This happened when we moved to our current apartment. For the first time, I had my own little home office, and I went nuts outfitting it. I bought a complicated desk chair, a wooden desktop organizer, special boxes to hold my supplies, all kinds of mailing envelopes and elaborate notebooks and sticky pads, fancy rubber bands printed with patterns, a headset for my phone, an extra battery for my laptop, anything I could think of.
It was after I bought a magnetic paper clip holder shaped like a little chirping bird that I started to feel guilty about the amount of stuff I was accumulating. I resolved to “Give something up.” I had everything I really needed, and I made a rule for myself: no more purchases for the office. I cut that category of spending out altogether—and it felt good to say no to myself and to stop buying. Enough.
When I wrote a blog post about my experience of resolving to “Give something up,” someone wrote to say, “It’s better to focus on the positive. Instead of telling yourself ‘no’ or ‘never’ or ‘don’t,’ focus on what you want, and be moderate. Otherwise you’re just setting yourself up to backslide and fail.”
That’s a good point to keep in mind, but I don’t agree that it’s always true. First of all, when I’m trying to give something up, I find it easier to give it up entirely than to try to indulge moderately. Also, sometimes it feels good to say, “I’m going to stop!” “No more!” “Maybe tomorrow, but not today.” Happiness experts point out that merely making and sticking to a decision is a source of happiness, because it gives you a feeling of control, of efficacy, of responsibility. At times of financial stress in particular, taking control of your finances—even symbolically—can boost your mood because you’re taking steps to control and improve your situation. At a time when I was feeling anxious about the expenditures related to our new apartment, it was comforting to refuse to spend any more in one particular area. (This wasn’t really economically rational, because buying one kitchen chair dwarfed my savings on a stapler, but it was psychologically effective, nevertheless.)
I asked blog readers if anyone had ever boosted his or her happiness by giving up a category of purchases entirely, and many people posted about their own forfeits: “grabbing a Cinnabon in airports—so expensive and so unhealthy,” “owning a car,” “lottery tickets,” “printed periodicals—now I read newspapers and magazines on-line only,” and “trading up to get the latest cell phone.”
* * *
When I moved into my current place, about a year and a half ago, I didn’t subscribe to cable TV. Which meant I had no broadcast TV at all. Since then, TV watching has been “Netflix or nothing.”
It was a choice based on frugality that had a philosophical savor to it. When that level of frugality is no longer necessary to reach my financial goals, I’ll re-evaluate—but dollars to donuts, even if I resubscribe to cable I’ll still watch less than I did before.
-bottled water
-no sugar-based snacks at work
-eating out at any time other than Friday/Saturday nights
As a result, the wife and I are losing weight and saving money.
No more buying things on eBay.
At first it was fun but then it started to get out of hand. I was ending up with things I didn’t really need or want, because I loved looking around and making discoveries. It was showing up in my wallet however. One day I clicked on the site and said to myself, “No more!” It has really been a relief. Plus I hadn’t realized what an amount of time it was using.
* * *
Readers also mentioned that they’d been happy to give up things unrelated to spending, such as “sleeping until noon on the weekends,” “checking TMZ.com,” “eating cereal,” and “sunbathing.”
* * *
I have a story to tell about feeling happier as a result of giving up something.
About five years ago, I got a job at a local animal shelter. At the time I began my job, I was a big-time carnivore. However, the longer I worked at the shelter, the more I became uncomfortable with the fact that I was eating SOME animals at the same time that I was saving OTHERS. I was being irrational. More importantly, I was also being inhumane.
A few of my coworkers were vegans, and I soon joined them. I don’t eat meat, dairy products, or eggs. I don’t buy clothing made from fur, leather, or wool. I’ve read Gary Taubes’s book (Good Calories, Bad Calories), so I’m not certain whether my diet produces any dramatic benefits in my health. But I do know that my behavior is now more consistent with my moral code. I also know that no matter what kind of a day I had, at the very least I can go to bed knowing that I did not contribute to the exploitation of sentient creatures.
I gave up processed sugar. This has been difficult, but not exactly for the reasons I thought it would be. I am a candy addict. I thought I would miss my Skittles and Starbursts and Life Savers and Twizzlers and Rainblo gum balls like crazy! But because I really went cold turkey—and TOLD PEOPLE about my plan—it has not been so tough. No negotiations, no little bits here and there—just, NO. I am still getting used to taking my coffee black, though. Such a change from 5–7 Splendas! 34 days later, is it worth it? YES! This is my one and only life.
* * *
Obviously, people’s choices will be different. Just because I’m happier when I don’t buy office equipment doesn’t mean that other people should stop buying highlighters. But although the resolution to “Give something up” may sound severe and spartan, it can feel good to choose to forgo something.
Samuel Butler wrote, “Happiness and misery consist in a progression towards better or worse; it does not matter how high up or low down you are, it depends not on this, but on the direction in which you are tending.” This seems the key to understanding the relationship between money and happiness.
However, because people differ wildly from one another in how they respond to money and the things it can purchase, it’s practically impossible to make generalizations. Take my blender. When I replaced our leaky blender, I splurged and bought a very expensive, very powerful blender. For me, because I make smoothies every day, this blender is a daily joy. For a person who never cooks, a fancy blender would be nothing but a means of conspicuous consumption; he’d never give it another thought after buying it, and it wouldn’t add to his happiness. If money is to enhance your happiness, it must be used to support aspects of life that themselves bring happiness to you.
Money. It’s a good servant but a bad master.
It was during this month, in the midst of trying to understand the mysteries of money, that I had a bout of happiness project despair.
It had been a horrible Saturday morning. We were all in bad moods. Jamie had let me sleep late, which was nice, but my morning went downhill from the moment I emerged from the bedroom. After I’d had a cup of coffee, he asked if he could go to the gym, and I said yes—but I was simmering with resentment. Once he left, Eliza and Eleanor played nicely together for about five minutes, then started poking, teasing, and yelling.
At the nadir, Eleanor was throwing a tantrum—lying on the floor, kicking her feet, beating her fists against the floor, and shrieking. Why? “Eliza looked at me!” Eliza joined in, sobbing, “It’s not my fault! I hate it when she cries!”
All my happiness project resolutions started flashing through my mind, but I didn’t want to “Sing in the morning” or “Take time to be silly” or “Give proofs of love.” I wanted someone to worry about making me feel better. I’d been trying so hard to keep my resolutions, but was it working? No. Nothing about me had changed. But if I abandoned my resolutions, what were my options? I could sit on the floor and start howling. I could walk away from the girls, get into bed, and read a book. But would I be happier if I did? No.
Minutes passed, and none of us seemed able to move. I was furious at Jamie for being at the gym. Eleanor kept crying, Eliza kept crying, I stood in the doorway.
“This is ridiculous!” I yelled. “Both of you, stop it! You’re crying about nothing!” Eleanor cried harder, Eliza cried harder. I fought back the urge to smack each of them.
“Don’t yell at me!” Eliza wailed. “It’s not my fault!” Eleanor rotated her body on the floor so she could start kicking the walls instead.
I had to do something. It took every ounce of moral strength that I possessed to say, “Crying makes a person thirsty. I’m going to get you each a glass of water.” (Both girls love to drink water.)
I went to the kitchen. First I opened a can of Diet Coke for myself; then I poured two glasses of water. I took a deep breath and tried to sound cheerful. “Who’s thirsty? Does anyone want some almonds?” I crossed my fingers.
Eliza and Eleanor straggled into the kitchen, sniffling melodramatically. They each took a drink of water and a few almonds. Then they sat down and drank more water and ate more almonds. Suddenly the mood lightened a bit.
“Hey,” I said to Eliza, “did you eat much breakfast?”
“No,” she said. “We started playing with the My Little Ponies.”
“Note to self,” I said, “don’t let you two get too hungry.” I started laughing hysterically, and the girls stared at me as they munched away.
That bad moment passed, but the rest of the day was hardly better. Eliza and Eleanor kept squabbling, Jamie and I kept bickering. Everybody was getting on my nerves.
That afternoon, while I was trying to prod the girls into tidying up the dozens of crayons that they’d scattered over the kitchen floor, I suddenly noticed that Jamie had vanished. “Jamie!” I yelled a few times, then went to hunt him down. I was enraged to find him fast asleep in the flying-Superman position on our bed. My scorekeeping kept running through my head: I got to sleep late, he got to go the gym, why did he get to take a nap, too? What was I going to get in return? “Remember,” my conscience whispered, “no calculation.” I ignored it.
My happiness project was making me feel worse, not better. I was acutely aware of all the mistakes I was making and the steps I could be taking—but I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t. To hell with the resolutions. Why was I even bothering with the resolutions? Many of them were actually directed at making other people happier, and no one appreciated my efforts, no one even noticed. I was particularly mad at Jamie. Did he ask me about my research? Did he utter one word of gratitude for the clean closets, the sweet e-mails, the decline in nagging? Nope.
I could hear the girls in the next room. “Mine!” “No, mine!” “Well, I was playing with it!” “Don’t push!” “You hurt my arm!” And so on.
I stormed into Jamie. “Get up! Are you just going to listen to that? Do you enjoy hearing that shrieking and hitting?”
Jamie rolled over and rubbed his eyes. He fixed me with a look that I interpreted to mean “I’m waiting for you to get yourself under control.”
“Don’t just lie there, this is your problem, too,” I snapped at him.
“What is?”
“Listen to Eliza and Eleanor! They’ve been like this all day. You fix it!”
“I’m sorry I’m not being helpful,” he said. “I just don’t know exactly what to do.”
“So you figured you’d wait for me to deal with it.”
> “Of course,” he said, smiling. He held out his arms to me. (I knew from my February research that this was a “repair attempt.”)
“Are you giving me a gold star?” I lay down next to him on the bed.
“Yes,” he said. The yelling from the girls got louder, then ominously quiet. “Ah, the happy sounds of home.” We both started laughing.
“Are we in harmony?” he asked. “Even if I am a slacker napping husband?”
“I guess,” I said. I put my head against his chest.
“I’ll tell you what, let’s go to the park. We need to get outdoors.” He sat up and yelled, “Put your shoes on, you two! We’re going to the park.”
This announcement was greeted with wails of indignation: “Don’t wanna put on shoes!” “I don’t want to go the park!”
“Well, you’re going to. I’ll help you both get ready.”
It was one of those days—and there would be others. A happiness project was no magic charm. But that night I did manage to keep one resolution, “Go to sleep earlier,” and in the morning, things looked a little better. Although it took several days before my bad mood lifted completely, at least I was ready to tackle my resolutions again.
8
AUGUST
Contemplate the Heavens
ETERNITY
Read memoirs of catastrophe.