Art thou ready for my first arty photo of the day?
Do you agree that happiness is actually an art of living, which is in us?
If happiness is an art of living, does that mean it takes time, talent, creativity, effort, and hard work? If we practice happiness — as we practice any art — does it get easier?
If we get out of practice, it’s good to know that happiness is in us, waiting to come alive again.
I have to work harder on the art of happiness when
- I see sadness and misery in others,
- I don’t trust the people in charge, and
- it’s cold and it’s dark.
Is taking photos actually an art of living?
Cooking is actually an art of living, too.
Art Tatum‘s artistry is an art of happiness.
Gratitude is an art of living and happiness, so thanks to all who helped me create this “art of living” post and — of course! — YOU.
I always appreciate your sensitive eye for art and life, Ann.
I always appreciate yours, Mark.
“Go further with food”? That is hard to argue with. All months should be nutritional months! And I think they are all nutritious months at your house, under Michael’s charge. Part of the work of the art of living is cooking tasty meals and another part is cleaning up the dishes.
The art of living includes noticing spectacular sunsets and ladybugs with running shoes. In your case you are not only an artist (of the art of living) but also someone who helps other people be artists of life in their own lives.
That is a very cute ladybug.
That is a very wonderful comment. You are an artist with words, Maureen.
For decades I tried to concoct a grand unified theory of art that would encompass all forms, but every time I thought I was close I’d realize I was leaving something out. Any definition of art, I realized, has to be inclusive, and includes life itself–although I don’t know anyone who practices any craft or sullen art, who thinks it ever gets easier.
Thank you, Chris, and Dylan Thomas.
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
I always appreciate you and your perspective of this complicated life.
Thank you for the art of appreciation.
Sometimes being happy isn’t easy and doesn’t come naturally but happiness is better then sadness any time
Your comments are naturally better, Joanne, and they make me happy.
I think of happiness as something that comes and goes, and joy as something that can be a product of living the right life for yourself. Either is good, though!
Thank you, Lisa, for the art of this comment.
Happiness is good fortune – not an art in itself, although it could be the reward of art
I am happy to have the good fortune of knowing you, Derrick.
I do think that all art needs to be cultivated in order to thrive, and I do think that happiness is the art of living, but that can sure get lost in the clutter of the every day. I think we need to feed that thought as much as possible. And speaking of feeding…another delicious meal. 🙂
Thanks for another artful, delicious comment, Debra.