Flip-Flop

Flip-flop: the word sprang from my mouth with an energy all its own. As it bounded out in conversation and danced around, coming to life as I explained the flip-flop phenomenon to my friend, she laughed and said, “You sound like your old self again.”

Wow, could she be right? I have had a bad year. No, bad year doesn’t cut it; “bad year” are words a meteorologist uses to describe a winter full of blizzards or a summer with drought conditions. And speaking here as a self-professed, self-absorbed suburban female who only recognizes drought when it affects citrus prices, I can say without too much guilt, I’ve had a horrible year. It’s been my “annus horribilis,” as Queen Elizabeth so aptly and anachronistically described hers. (Hey, if she can complain, damn it, so can I!) But could a flip-flop exchange bring me out of it? Could the mere act of opening an annoying chain letter that includes a retail experience quicken my step and lighten my heart? Could the simple action of buying one pair of flip-flops, sending them off in a manila envelope to someone I don’t know, then awaiting my altruistic gift to be rewarded in the form of thirty-six more pairs of flip-flops actually shift my consciousness that much? Is this the proverbial butterfly landing that can tilt the karmic wheel?

If so, I’m in trouble … or maybe, I’m lucky.

Flip-flop.

I read a study on happiness once; well, not so much read the study as read the article that described the findings of the study, and not so much read it as scanned it at a doctor’s office. However, what I gleaned from it stuck with me, its message memorable enough to lie in wait in my trivia-filled brain and jump out at me years later. The study found that people who feel happy the most often are people who find happiness in the little things they experience throughout a day, whereas people who look for happiness in the larger picture—such as goals met, ambitions set, careers on path, or relationships formed—often are disappointed and left feeling empty or disillusioned.

I translate this to mean that when I walk into Starbucks and see smiling faces and hear chipper voices asking what I want; when I stand in this place of familiarity amid other caffeine junkies (tuning into Dylan’s poetic verse or swaying to a samba); when I smell the aroma of my personalized coffee—less complex an order than the person’s in front of me, more complex than the person’s behind me—rise from its cup (realizing on some level that I’ve come a long way from the Folger’s of my deprived youth); when I feel its heat in my hands and bring the cup to my lips with anticipation—I know, thanks to this insightful article, that I’m happy. I feel happiness because I’m living in the present and I’m not bogged down with worries for the future or regrets from the past. As a French Buddhist drinking an espresso might say, “Tres Zen, n’est-ce que pas?”

And there you have it: the Holy Grail, as it were, can be found by taking small sips of life in the mundane moments that make up each and every day.

Flip-flop.