“Turn left onto South Goodlett Street,” the robotic female voice droned from my iPhone.
“Ok, ok!” I muttered, cutting a hard left and trying not to spill my coffee.
The pale pink walls of the Buddhist temple rose up out of the ghetto before me, capped with decorative green leaves. I drove through a huge gate set into the outer wall. It was huge and rounded and stately. I pulled slowly into the parking lot/courtyard area, feeling out of place even from the safety of my Volkswagen.
Was I even still in Memphis?
A verdant yard stretched back from the temple on either side, a well-maintained greenhouse nestled in the corner of the lot. The temple itself was a brilliant array of golds and greens and pinks, composed of ornate curlicues and round pillars. A large shrine was visible on one side of the entryway, a golden statue, surrounded by flowers, balanced proudly on the dais. Guarding the massive front doors, two great statues stood, fierce images of dragon-riding Bodhisattvas.
I sat in my car. Took a gulp of coffee.
What was I doing here?
You might guess that I was there getting material to write this article. Or maybe you’d guess I was there to satisfy some brand of cultural curiosity. That I planned, perhaps, on walking around the temple proper, snapping some pics with my smartphone, feeling culturally adventurous for the duration of my exploration. That I planned on leaving with nothing more than the photos and maybe a string of beads from the gift shop.
But that’s not why I was there. I was there for the service the internet promised they held in English every Sunday at 10:00 a.m. I was there because I had plugged this goal in my “Ideal Week” exercise.
See, I started reading this self-help book. It is promisingly entitled “Happier.”
Cause who couldn’t use a little more happiness in their lives, right?
The book is by Tal Ben-Shahar, a professor at Harvard. Usually, I can read a full-on Harry Potter length book in about a day (I’m talking Goblet of Fire, not Sorcerer’s Stone). But I’ve had this book for about three months and I’m barely halfway through. The reason things are going so slowly is because this book actually makes you WORK. When I got to the end of chapter four, I found out I was required to make a “happiness map.”
To do this, you first have to determine what your obligations are, what you enjoy, and what you need to do in order to live a happier, more fulfilled life than you do right now. For me, a single college student who had recently moved back home, I decided that I had obligations a.) to my mother, b.) to my amazing dog Lloyd (and by extension to all three of our animals. Leaving the others out would just be cruel), c.) to my education, d.) to my extended family, and e.) to my finances. Just about, but not necessarily always, in that order.
I decided that I enjoyed dancing, cooking, working out, and writing.
Finally, I decided that in order to feel more fulfilled, I needed to start devoting time to volunteer work and to spiritual and mental health concerns.
The next step was to map out your week. You must include how much approximate time each item will take. Some things can be biweekly or once a month, but the point is to get a routine down on paper.
So I mapped out my week and started with the stuff I couldn’t get around doing: work and school and studying (bleh).
Then I plugged in my next most important commitment: my mother. I decided I’m going to devote four hours per week to cleaning the house and five hours per week for meal prep for the fam (which satisfies my love of cooking, keeps my family healthy, and demonstrates my love for them).
Next came Lloyd (the big, adorable slob). I decided he deserved at least four hours of my undivided attention every week. So I plugged in a day where I take him, and his canine compatriot Missy, to the dog park. After dog parking it, they get bathed and brushed.
Then came, and this is the BIG one people, “me time.”
And I had to make sure I made as much time for myself as I made for my work.
Sounds crazy, right?
But is it?
Just think about it. I’m not gonna try and convince you one way or another. But I’m 95% sure you could stand to be 95% kinder to yourself, and that you could be kinder if you gave yourself the time to work on it. You are 100% worth it.
For “me time” I plugged in my morning and nightly health and hygiene routine, workout time, dance class once a week, writing time once a week, and even “break time,” small stretches of time during which I must do nothing. Watch TV. Swim in our pool. Go shopping. No matter what final I have in the morning or which research paper is due.
Finally, I needed to devote some time to my mental and spiritual well-being. This was another brand of “me time,” but a necessary one to keep me balanced. I plugged in regular meditation time. And I devoted one hour every Sunday to exploring a new faith, something I’ve always wanted to do.
In a box on the side of my week-map, I made a daily checklist with food and beverage goals: Akins diet complicit foods? 8 glasses of water? Vitamins?
By the end of my “happiness exercise,” I had designated nine hours a week to my mom, four to my pets, twenty-four to work, seventeen to class, nineteen to studying, and five to mental and spiritual wellness. For “me time” I had designated fourteen hours per week. Forty-six free hours of weekly daylight remained unaccounted for, ensuring that I had the wiggle room to keep myself on track and balanced, to be used as break time cushion if I needed it. Or as opportunities for volunteer time if I could spare it.
I looked back at my ideal week and smiled. That was the week of a good daughter, a hard worker, a good pet owner. It was the week of a conscientious philosopher and seeker. It was the week of a balanced individual.
I can do this, I thought to myself. I can be this girl.
So I bought a whiteboard, hung it on my wall, and drew out my week.
I also made a reward system for myself:
If I checked off all of my obligations for one day, I could spend $5 for that day at the end of the week. For all of you out there that are as bad at math as I am, that means that by Sunday, the max I might be able to spend on myself would be $35 (I’m a student. I have to be practical). However, if I failed to check everything off in one day, I’d have to save $10 for that day. So no stress. No matter what, I win. And I’m less prone to indulge in retail therapy I can’t afford.
This past week was my first week. I did really well and got almost everything done (also, my bank account will be grateful for the fifteen dollars I have to save). I even got way more out of my “break time” than I had before. This week, I didn’t watch TV because “there was nothing else to do.” I didn’t decide to swim in answer to my mind’s childish cry of “I’m bored!”
Instead, I swam and watched TV with purpose. To keep myself healthy and balanced. Watching TV became an activity meant for quieting my mind and maybe learning lessons. Laying on my floaty and getting a rad tan became a study in being a balanced individual rather than the empty pleasure of a nihilist.
And I was super gung-ho about the whole week planning and being balanced until I pulled into that parking lot outside the Buddhist temple.
What was I doing here?
Visiting different places of worship looked cool and progressive and all “Eat, Pray, Love” when written against the crisp white surface of my notebook paper. But here, now, it seemed stupid and scary and crazy.
I didn’t know anyone. What if they didn’t speak English? What if I’d come at the wrong time? What if I made a fool of myself? What if it was super weird?
But I’d driven all the way out here. And the temple was beautiful. So I got out of my car, stood awkwardly outside of the temple doors, and waited for someone to notice me and take pity on the hapless foreigner. A small woman guided me to a door set into the side of the temple. She motioned me inside. I stepped in, and was greeted by a man in flowing golden robes. His feet were bare, his head shaved. His face was alight with kindness and what I can only describe as “mirth.”
He looked at me with a question in his eyes.
“I’m here as a guest,” I said in the loud, slow voice one uses with foreigners, even though I was the foreigner here.
He nodded and smiled and motioned me over to a white guy about my own age. I looked past the lone white face, and saw a double line of little Asian girls in bright red dresses patterned with silver flowers. Their silky black hair hung shining and straight down their backs and on either side of their necks in a natural adornment. They were dancing at the instruction of an elderly woman, the younger girls in front and the older girls in back. The girls in front, barely out of babyhood, danced with the adorable uncertainty of childhood. The older girls danced with the studied exasperation of teenagers, clearly wishing for their smartphones.
I decided right then that I liked Buddhist temple.
As it was, apparently, the day of the year designated for the commemoration of parents and ancestors, the monk with the kindly face talked for a little bit about the respect and honor we should show to our parents, but most of all to our mothers.
He said our parents are our little Buddhas, which made me smile and which I knew my mom would love.
After the service, the monks fed us delicious Vietnamese soup and I decided to buy this highly suspicious looking sweet that was wrapped in bamboo leaves. When opened, it looked like sticky black tar. Weirdly enough, it tasted like a Butterfinger.
I left feeling proud of myself for being brave. I honestly didn’t feel much different spiritually. But I did feel a little awed, that such a beautiful center of culture and learning had been here all the time.
And I never would have found my temple, never would have gotten to spend my Sunday morning watching adorable Asian girls dance, or to listen to a kind-faced man preach from a kneeling position, or to engage in the super strange but oddly communal practice of chanting with strangers, or to eat free homemade Vietnamese food, if I hadn’t taken my life in hand. If I hadn’t taken an active interest in my own happiness and balance. If I hadn’t committed myself to making my life what I think it should be, what I want it to be.
Within one week, I’ve saved 30 bucks, taken care of all of my responsibilities, lost three pounds, crossed an item off of my bucket list, and had an adventure.
What could you do in a week?
