The Discipline of Happiness
Growing up, every weekend from the first dewy days of spring to the raw chill of early November, our family slipped out of Brussels to sail the North Sea. For those unfamiliar, sailing in the North Sea isn’t exactly serene; it’s intense, shaped by strong tides, swift currents, sudden storms, generous helpings of rain, shifting sandbanks, and busy cargo routes that demand constant focus at the helm. But scattered along the rugged coastlines are some of the most charming, postcard-worthy harbors you can imagine, quiet Dutch towns with colorful facades and cobbled streets that make every arrival feel like a little discovery. The dress code? Musto jackets, Helly Hansen layers, and Aigle boots—much less about style, and much more about surviving the rough weather in one piece!
Our ritual began Friday evening, upon arrival to the small Dutch harbor where our boat waited for us, bobbing gently against the dock. Saturday morning smelled of pastries from the village bakery and sea-salt air. We’d stop by the harbor fishmonger for shrimp and fish, then hoist our sails and set off for the next picture-perfect port, returning to Brussels by Sunday night. Rain or shine, wind howling or weather calm, my father would grin up at inauspicious skies and declare, “What a beautiful day. Look there, a clearing...” My mother, siblings and I would exchange amused glances. The clouds might remain iron-grey, the rain might lash the deck, and we may be forced to reef the sails at the outset, but Dad’s conviction was enough to keep us pressing forward.
That unwavering optimism is my father’s legacy. Our relationship had its own teenage storms. My mother passed away just one month before he retired, around the same time we lost nine extended family members in quick succession. But still he stood firm, choosing hope again and again. At first, I resented it. How could he smile when everything felt like it was crumbling? But over time I saw that his optimism wasn’t naïve, it was deliberate. It was a choice to seek the bright horizon, to fashion joy out of ordinary moments. My parents didn’t preach happiness; they practiced it. Only after thirty years have I fully learned that happiness is a discipline, a daily commitment.
Becoming a parent illuminated that truth. When my ten-year-old earnestly told me how “weird” I sounded describing the thrill of a grocery run, I realized how far I’d come. Grocery shopping had become an exciting late-night adventure, after the kids were asleep, when our ever-cheerful au pair, Naho, and I would race our carts as the lights dimmed before the closing. We’d each choose our favorite sparkling water, pick a birthday card at checkout, and somehow make even that late-night dash feel like an adventure.
On maternity leave, I thought daytime shopping would be a nice shift, but the weekly haul for our growing brood quickly became its own kind of challenge. It felt endless and repetitive. I wasn’t frustrated by maternity leave (I loved it!), but by the fact that shopping felt never-ending. Some weeks I’d come home grumpy, drained by how much time it took and how quickly the fridge would empty again. I knew this was a task I’d repeat weekly for years to come, and unless I found a way to make it enjoyable, it would keep draining me.
So I tagged groceries onto the back of my workouts, invited a dear friend along, and discovered new treats that I’d never noticed. Eight months in, our bi-monthly shopping dates have become one of the highlights of my week. Once a month, fueled, fit, and fearless, we conquer Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s, and Costco in one triumphant sweep, returning home as though we’ve scaled Everest.
The truth is, whether sailing through the North Sea’s tempestuous weather patterns or pushing a shopping cart through crowded aisles, it all boils down to the same thing; choosing to find joy and purpose in the routine, braving the storms—both literal and not—with a bit of grit, laughter, and determination.
Here’s my invitation to you:
What’s your most grueling task, at home or at work, that drags at your spirit? How might you infuse it with play, connection, or a ritual, so that it becomes, if not joyous, then at least something you look forward to?
A few favorites from our most recent conquests…!
