Anna Quindlen wrote a great little book several years ago with the title “A Short Guide to a Happy Life.” The book is one of my favorite gifts to give -it’s exactly 50 pages of her inspiring prose and beautiful photos of people living their very ordinary but full lives.
The premise is pretty simple and follows my own philosophy: Enjoy life, know what’s important, cherish the ones you love and know that you are uniquely you.
The bottom line is that life is short and we’re all in this together, so treat each other with kindness and live each day fully by paying attention. As Quindlen says on page 41: “C’mon let’s be honest. We have an embarrassment of riches. Life is good.”
My favorite part is the last page, where Quindlen tells a story of interviewing a homeless man who lived primarily on the boardwalk of Coney Island, hanging out there regardless of the weather.
When she asked him why he didn’t go to a shelter or check himself into a center for detox, he turned to the ocean and said, “Look at the view, young lady. Look at the view.”
Then she writes: “And every day, in some little way, I try to do what he said. I try to look at the view. That’s all. Words of wisdom from a man without a dime in his pocket, no place to go, nowhere to be. Look at the view. When I do what he said, I am never disappointed.”
Eloquent words from a great writer, and incredibly true. My life is filled with an embarrassment of riches – healthy kids, great friends, family I love, and a place to live that fills my soul with breathtaking views every day.
Fall in New Mexico is just another excuse to stop and look at the view. A quick little walk around my neighborhood, a drive through Dilia on my way to Logan, a hike at Hyde Park. . . .
That’s my advice for the day (and the year): Look at the view. Whether it’s the sunlight playing off your toddler’s hair or the juxtaposition of yellow leaves against your still-green lawn, take time to look at the view. You won’t be disappointed.
In my old Santa Fe neighborhood
The rectory at Guadalupe Chapel, Santa Fe
My apricot tree in my own yard. . .
Bunny Terry is a native New Mexican who grew up on a farm in northeastern New Mexico. Her first writing job was typing stories on index cards on her family’s Underwood, stories that were uncannily like the ones she read over and over in O Ye’ Jigs and Julips, her favorite childhood book. No one thought to save those index cards for posterity, although there is the theory sarcastically circulated by her siblings that they will certainly be worth millions someday. 