Like the expression you are what you eat, in Maine it is also all about you are where you hang your hat.
Happier is easier. If your surroundings are unspoiled, natural, uncrowded. Safe, family and small community oriented. Drop dead gorgeous like sparsely populated Maine. All four seasons.
That long feature list of what everyone wants but does not get to enjoy in tight for open space city settings.
Has to help pour the solid foundation so you can’t avoid having more over the top good days. Increasing the odds, extending a helping hand to give you a sporting chance of being happy easier in Maine. Singing inside. Like a hot air balloon that could go to outer space. Being in a room without a roof. That happiness is a truth. Clap along if you feel like that’s what you want to do.
What makes you happy?
Or have you learned yet it is not something you chase? That is not way way out there someplace up ahead along the road of life. It resides deep down inside all of us, near your heart, next to your soul. Happy is a process, a habit, a routine, reflex. Ten ways to be happier if there is some slack, something lacking in that inside place.
Maybe happy is love that is on sale at the local five and dime at closing time. Small Maine town, a strong connection because few people means huddling together, needing each other, knowing everyone in the place. That the village raises the kids.
Music is life, big part of Maine. Especially the home grown kind. When our youth are holding, playing the instruments. Belting out the music with a smile, full throttle passion. That makes you happy, sing right along inside. You groove in your seat, raising your toe up and down. Want to dance, sing along. Put your hands together.
So a song in your heart, humming or singing, maybe feeling the toe tapping inside as you experience Maine.
Add to it that the song is wildlife, a Maine lake, river, ocean water sound. Crickets, loons singing duets. A grandchild laughing or just the listen. Hear that? Nothing but the sound of silence. When a calm day, no traffic and the wind, breeze calls in sick. Takes a personal day. From the howling around the old farm house eaves. Back porch wind chime or banging the unlatched barn or machine shed doors. Not whispering sweet nothings through the pine needle vibration.
So start whistling, you are home where I am with you… Maine. It’s a happy love affair.
Maybe if you are a walker, stuck in a city, it’s a pressure cooker. Keeping you from being happy in your surroundings. If you march to a beat of a different drummer, start the hitting the pavement. Thumping the skins. Heading, trotting, heck it’s over due for a hand gallop. Time to neck rein, high tail it to Maine. Leave those strangling regulations. Put those too many people everywhere you look in your rear view mirror.
Happy begins, plays, ends for me in Maine. Where when I am high on hill with snow skis. Hiking a mountain to the top where I feel pretty small, plenty humble, very grateful. Happy. Like on a Maine lake, during sunset, after a great meal the family all helped create. And now sitting around a camp fire thinking this was another great day in Maine.
Same as visiting a Maine lighthouse when the tourists are back home out of state.
It’s just you on a nippy, crisp air winter day at a Maine lighthouse. And the take away is clarity, getting it, knowing just a taste of the space, solitude the lighthouse keeper enjoyed every day, year round. Hear yourself think, clearing your head and heart. Organizing your thoughts. On the journey, direction to be the happiest you can be in a place. Can’t bring you down because the boost from the love is too high. Like only all natural, unfiltered Maine can do to you. Once she grabs your heart. You don’t ever want her to let go. And are only fooling yourself thinking you actually could.