The happiness pie
The bigger the pie, the more pie, the bigger the pie
If you've been reading for a while or are new here, this substack is mostly about finding joy on my little urban farm. Yes, I realize the irony of using my computer to urge readers to go outside and remember what a remarkably beautiful world is outside. Yet, modern life is nothing if not a bizarre study in contrast.
We just had the first real freeze of the season. When we woke up, the tips of the leaves still had frost on them. The dark ice burn stains crept down each leaf as the day warmed.
I negotiated a trade with our six-year-old that if he and I made the early mass service, he could have cocoa in the truck on the way. We watched the sunrise together as we trekked up the freeway, and I noted how the pink light glinted off the mountains. "I don't know how I can ever thank this world enough," remarked my son, filling my heart. I don't know where he gets this stuff.
He then promptly spilled cocoa all the way down his clean, white shirt. Of course.
Next, he worried that Jesus would think he was dirty. "Don't worry, Buddy. Jesus knows exactly how dirty you are and loves you no matter what." Once we arrived, my son marched proudly up the aisle, chocolate stain on full display, brimming with Jesus' love.
Mornings like this make me happy, even if I am out of Spray and Wash.
As we left the church, our priest announced a farmer had left boxes of local apples at the front door for people to take home. "Mom, you could make a pie," my son whispered.
Most of us occupy a space so far removed from our sources of meaning it's easy to lose sight of the "gift" part of the gift of life. We've lost the mysteriousness and beauty all around us. But there is nothing that feels as much like a gift as a warm pie at the start of fall and frost. Pies are inherently happy desserts.
Not, by the way, that anyone else needs to find happiness amongst fall baking, goats, and chickens - the way I do. A quiet corner with a good book, a glass of champagne with a friend at a sidewalk cafe, time with children or the elderly, or even one of those deeply refreshing afternoon naps where your body loses track of time will do it.
We're all struggling on the happiness boat, and the elusive destination always seems to slip just over the horizon. None of us has the right to happiness, just the pursuit. I'm not sure about you, but lately, merely pursuing happiness seems exhausting in and of itself.
As an economist by trade and nature, pies always make me think of markets. My closest girlfriends (fellow nerds) and I have created a pie-based shorthand to talk about a multitude of life's struggles: there is the "set pie" view and the "expanding pie" perspective. I'm always trying to move from the "set pie" camp to the "expanding pie" view of life.
Understanding the underpinnings of the power of free markets and wealth creation requires knowledge of comparative advantage and specialization. In short, in a society where some people are better at certain things than others (which is every society) when people specialize toward their strengths, everybody becomes wealthier.
Plenty of arguments about asymmetrical growth, fairness, and wealth distribution are raging in politics and culture. Still, the essential principles of free trade lead to increasing wealth - an "expanding pie," if you will.
Looking back even one generation at global wealth increases proves how quickly we can grow. People worldwide today have devices in their pockets that would be inconceivably expensive and impossible to produce when I was born. The pie is unquestionably bigger. Seeing it helps to create an attitude of abundance.
Another school of thought seems to be growing in popularity - I call it the "set pie" view. Its essence is that wealth is static, and the only way to grow wealthy is at the expense of another. The "exploiter" and "exploited" lens gains societal footing as fewer young people understand economics and history.
We can apply theories of wealth to many of the "goods" in our lives. Several people specializing in complementary intellectual pursuits will likely gain more than one person trying to learn everything alone. One person pursuing their happiness can contribute to the happiness of those around them - even if their respective "happiness" doesn't come in the same form.
Those with the "expanding pie" view of the "goods" in life are more apt to celebrate the successes of others as they know it doesn't necessarily come at their or someone else's expense. "Expanding pie," people won't be threatened when others reach their potential because it doesn't keep them from their own. “Expanding pie” friends will celebrate you, share with you, and will derive joy from you finding yours. If the pool of positives in life can expand, we all can expand it together by each pursuing our own happiness.
Fighting jealousy and relativism are constant in the war against the "set pie."
My husband, Mark, and I have been analyzing and tweaking our respective morning routines so they flow better. I added a new shoe cubby and clothing hooks in the boys' room so we can have their outfits set out the night before to accelerate my process.
Mark has now started to get up every morning and go to the gym before the boys and I wake up. He then comes home and has added a spa diffuser to his bathroom and has switched the morning talk radio he used to listen to that South American pan flute music you hear when getting a massage.
Earlier this week, my morning process had broken down when I had set out the "wrong" navy blue socks the night before for the four-year-old. "Why were they wrong?" you might ask. It was unclear but apparently had something to do with the fact that I set out the "scratchy" ones, and the "soft" ones that originated from the same package had been eaten by the dryer monster. Great.
I was about to tackle and force the scratchy blue socks over unwilling and surprisingly kicky little feet as the sound of the South American pan flute wafted into the hall.
I will be honest, friends; as I confronted the crying sockless irrational monster who had replaced my sweet boy, I pictured my husband next door stepping into his lemongrass-essential-oil-diffused-rain-showerhead-spa-experience. If I had a pan flute in my hands at that moment, I might have beaten Mark with it.
It wasn't until the boys and I were in the truck (sans cocoa, I learned that lesson) heading to school with soft socks on our feet that I realized I had spent the morning in a "set pie" mindset. Regardless of my sock fiasco, Mark would have had to get ready for work; why would I take away his calm just because I had lost my own? Misery loves company, but to what end?
Mark had such a good day at work that he could come home and be more helpful and present than he would have if pummeled half-to-death by his wife wielding a South American pan flute club to start his day. I recovered and checked my relativism. Then, I pursued my happiness and used the church apples to make a pie.
What if I want more pie, and so do those around me? The beauty is - I know how to bake. I can make more. My pie can expand; there's plenty to go around.
There is something about a homemade pie that stops the inner clock. The smell makes us reflect on times past and slows our rapid world. The aroma of a pie coming out of the oven heightens all five of our human senses and encircles us with the feeling of love and wellbeing.
I needed to read this today. THANKS.