I’m just coming out of a truly miserable bout of cold/flu—one of those that flattens you completely and makes even small decisions feel like effort.
I even missed delivering work to a happiness-themed show at Mockingbird Handprints because I was sick. And while a part of me felt that familiar tug—I should push through, I should rally—the truth was simpler: it just had to be. There was no bargaining with the body this time.
That irony didn’t escape me. Missing a happiness show because of illness feels almost comic, until you sit with it a little longer.
Here’s one of the little the unfinished encaustic collage that may eventually get there – it says, “Happiness is choosing a branch that will hold you.” I was hanging onto the branch!
You probably know that being sick has a way of rearranging things. Time slows. Attention shrinks. The body insists on being heard, and the mind—used to running ahead with plans and ideas—has to follow along more humbly.
When my brothers were here for a holiday visit last week, we spent more time sitting, visiting, and reading than going out. It wasn’t the version of the visit any of us might have imagined, but it was the one that fit. Companionship replaced activity. Presence replaced plans. And unexpectedly, that felt like its own kind of happiness.
Illness has a way of stripping happiness of its performance. There’s no energy for cheerfulness or achievement. What’s left is something simpler: comfort, ease, being together without needing to do much at all. (I did whine a bit . . .)
I noticed this shift in my relationship to art, too. When energy is limited, making becomes smaller and more tentative. Thinking replaces doing. Looking replaces producing. And while that can feel frustrating at first, it often opens a deeper attentiveness.
During those sick days, I try not to expect “real work” of myself. Reading counts. Sorting images counts. Making notes, jotting words, imagining future pieces—those count too. Even napping feels connected to the work, as if something is magically aligning beneath the surface – hooray for naps.
Mostly, being sick reminds me that happiness—like art—is embodied. It doesn’t live only in accomplishment or output. It lives in breathing, stamina, attention, and recovery. Sometimes happiness looks like showing up. Sometimes it looks like staying home. Sometimes it looks like reading quietly with people you love while the rest of the world carries on without you.
Here’s another little unfinished encaustic collage – this one says, “Happiness lies in the balance between wing and branch.” Flying and resting, flying and resting —
Appropriately, the book I was reading when I got sick was Meditations for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman. In it, he reflects on our finite capacities—on the simple, often uncomfortable truth that we cannot do everything, seize every opportunity, or live at full speed all the time.
What he offers instead is a kind of relief: the idea that a meaningful life isn’t built by overcoming our limits, but by choosing what matters within them, and letting the rest go without resentment. Reading that while sick felt less like instruction and more like permission.
I’m feeling better, and I’m carrying that permission with me, the permission to make less when less is what’s possible. To miss a show without turning it into a story of failure. To recognize that happiness, like art, isn’t always expansive or visible. Sometimes it’s the privilege to live honestly within the shape of the days we’re given. Help me remember that!!
Oh, Lyn! Once again, you’ve managed to distill your lived experience into its most essential elements and you created something universally resonant in the process. May we all be content — and happy — with living authentically within the shape (and number) of the days we’re bestowed. PS – I’m glad you’re on the mend.
Joy, you are so eloquent and kind! I hope you are on the mend as well – you are a treasure.
Happy new year to a thoughtful teacher! Your post resonated on so many levels. Will check out the Burkeman book, too. Be well, and know how much you are appreciated.
Adeliese, thank you – that made me feel so good! 🙂
I usually bring a book with me when I travel, but gifts filled my bags when we traveled over the holidays. When we were headed back, I wandered into the airport bookstore and found Oliver Burkeman’s book. It had turned out to be a very good beginning of the new year read and I was delighted to know you too are reading it.
Wishing you gentle joys, fulfilling work, and good health in the year ahead.
☮️ Liz
I love the serendipity – and it’s good to see your blog back with your always-inspiring thoughts!
It sounds like Life gave you lemons and you made lemonade. Good for you! And listening to your body is an extension of listening to your artist voice. The practice of listening helps you get “back to” faster because all of your creative energy is not available when you are physically spent. Thanks for reminding me of this as I struggled through the between times of Christmas and New Year’s and was less productive than I had hoped. Here’s to moving through And forward!
You are so smart and kind! And so right about the energy shift. Here’s to moving through and forward indeed!! ♥
Lyn, Once again your writing and lived experience have reached directly into my heart at the exact time I needed them. Thank you so much.
❤️
Oh, good – we are all in this together! 🙂
I do hope you’ll be 100% very soon. I attended the rehearsal for our community chorus last night – my first time singing in ages and ages. So much of it felt like riding a bicycle in that I got my music and moved right into the rehearsal without a hiccup. But some of it was a wake-up call to how my body has changed. It doesn’t really like two-hour rehearsals (don’t these people want to go to bed yet?) and that gentle strain of sitting and singing for two hours woke me later in the night with a shoulder twinge. Hunh. Will I make it with weekly rehearsals all the way to the concert in May? We’ll see. I will take it easy today . . . Flying and resting, flying and resting.
You know how to balance, Melanie – I’m so glad you’re singing again. It’s harder than people imagine! The breath work and concentration is real work! Hang in there – we need your voice!
I’m glad you’re feeling better. Love your bird art!
Thanks, Elaine – I’m going to finish those two little pieces!
Dear Lyn,
I cant begin to tell you how this meant to me!!! love to you
Love you too, dear friend – xo
I’m glad you are feeling better. I love your birds!!! Lv Cindy
Thanks, Cindy – love your work too – it always makes me smile!
Oh Lyn! I’m so sorry you were sick— sounds like you were really sick. Good for you realizing that what is, is, and you do what you can, not what your old self tells you to do. That’s a big win.
Wishing you a healthy new year with many insights, good friends and great vibes
What a wonderful wish, Cindy — that;’s a keeper. So many thanks ♥
Bless your heart! Always good wise words from you…which I’ve come to count on…Thank you for being an inspiration, and just being there!
Debora, thank you for reading and listening and answering – ♥
Oh, dear Lyn, I am so glad to hear you are feeling better. I so understand that tension between pushing ahead, sometimes with whitened knuckles, and surrendering to that which we mistakenly thought was within our control. I have struggled with that off and on for years and it’s only an abundance of Grace that eventually keeps me from that insanity. Resting becomes inevitable and we are blessed who learn it’s an essential element of self care and, ultimately, of our creative journey. XOXO
I don’t tell you often enough what an inspiration you are to me — I think of your tree so often. Trees are not in a hurry. They trust the seasons, and even in stillness, they are doing exactly what they need to do. Like you!! ♥
Sorry you were sick, the flu this year is no joke and has made many people seriously ill. Glad to hear you are on the mend! I’m always happy when a ‘Shard’ email arrives to my inbox because I know it will be very creative, thought provoking and inspiration filled. Thanks for all you share!
there is a boatload of thoughts, reasoning and angst to sort through in this heartfelt post…
I so very much appreciate your dedication to truth and life’s hiccups. I am so sorry you have been ill. this ‘new’ flu is no joke. sending you healing vibes and recovery. looking forward to your blog posts is essential for me. be strong. heal fast. keep moving forward.
Janet, thanks – one good think about being sick is that it gives your mind a lot of wandering wondering time! I’m so grateful for the good words and wishes. ♥