Smile

Finding small moments of happiness in heavy times

Photo by Count Chris on Unsplash

If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through
For you-Smile, Nat King Cole

I had just finished my morning dog walk at the park and was pulling out of the parking lot when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man standing on the corner wearing a pirate hat…holding a pug. Yes, a full-on pirate. Johnny Depp Pirates of the Caribbean level pirate. It stopped me in my tracks—and it made me smile.

A couple of days earlier, after another morning walk, I returned to my car to find something sitting on the door handle. No note. No explanation. Just a tiny plastic duck wearing a snow hat and sunglasses. I still have no idea where it came from or who left it there, but I laughed out loud and, again, smiled.

My family has an ongoing text chain, and almost every day someone shares a meme, a YouTube/Instagram clip, or a photo of something silly or absurd. They always make me smile—sometimes a quiet smile, sometimes a full-on laugh that surprises me.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the importance of smiling. Not in a forced, “everything is fine” kind of way, but in a very real, very necessary way—for my health, my happiness, and frankly, my sanity.

This has been a tough winter. It seems like almost everyone I know is dealing with something heavy: family drama, job stress, illness, loss of pets or people, ongoing uncertainty. Add in the short days, the cold, and the general exhaustion that comes with mid-winter, and it can all feel like a lot.

An influencer I follow announced at the beginning of January that her “word of the year” is smile. She’s using Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh’s book How to Smile as her guide. One quote in particular stopped me:

“If in our daily life we can smile, if we can be peaceful and happy, not only we but everyone will profit from it. This is the most basic kind of peace work.”

I love that framing—peace work. Not grand gestures. Not fixing the world. Just choosing, when we can, to soften our face, our thoughts, our reactions.

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Whenever I begin writing a post, I always spend time trying to articulate the point of the essay—what I’m really trying to say. I never want to come across as a subject expert. The whole idea behind Leaving Middle Age is to share my experiences of aging: the weird, the unexpected, the occasionally uncomfortable, and the genuinely wonderful lessons that seem to arrive whether I ask for them or not. I hope readers feel like companions on this journey, not students in a lecture.

So this week, what I want to talk about is the importance of projecting happiness as we age. And let me be very clear about what I don’t mean. I’m not talking about a fake, pollyanna, head-in-the-sand approach to life. I know there are serious issues we’re all facing—personally and collectively. Ignoring reality isn’t healthy, helpful, or honest.

But I’ve always believed that finding humor—when possible—is a powerful stress reducer. And when a situation is too heavy or painful to find any humor at all, I’ve learned that I need to find it somewhere else as a kind of mental health break. A pause. A breath. A reminder that not every moment has to carry the full weight of the world.

As I get older, I’m realizing that happiness, laughter, and smiling aren’t luxuries—they’re tools. They help me cope. They help me stay connected. They help me move through hard days without becoming hardened myself.

As I write this, we’re in the middle of yet another dark winter day, waiting for a large snowstorm that may bring power outages and internet interruptions. I’m racing to finish this post and wrap up some work, just in case. And I’m noticing how intentional I’ve become about looking for the small things that make me smile.

A ridiculous antic from my dog.
One of those family text messages.
A funny meme.
Photos of my grand-nieces—almost two years old and five months old—so adorable it almost hurts.
And my current comfort obsession: rewatching The West Wing for what must be the gazillionth time. (Truly, if you’ve never watched it, drop everything immediately and do so. Yes, it’s almost 30 years old. Yes, the technology is dated. And yes, so much of it still feels surprisingly relevant.)

Are these coping mechanisms? Absolutely.
Are they also goals for aging healthily and happily? Yes. Yes. Yes.

A friend recently commented on one of my posts about choosing a word or theme for the year. She wrote:

“Believe it or not, I’m having a hard time coming up with my word for the year—only because I feel so centered and grounded in my life, I’m not sure what I want to work on.”

First of all—what a wonderful place to be in life. Truly. Goals.

As I read her message, one word kept popping into my head: Continue. We don’t always need to reinvent ourselves. Sometimes staying the course—continuing what’s already working, what already brings us peace and fulfillment—is not complacency. It’s wisdom.

Smiling, for me, feels like part of that continuation. Not because life is easy, but because it isn’t. Because choosing to notice the pirate with the pug, the duck on the car door, the silly text message, or the familiar comfort of a favorite show helps me move through the chaos with a little more grace.

So I’ll leave you with the same question I keep asking myself these days:

What makes you smile right now?

There has to be something.

Peace + Clarity

Much love!

Thanks for stopping by Leaving Middle Age! If you found this interesting, please share it with friends, family, or anyone who’d appreciate the journey.