Fear of Simplicity

Today, Southeast Michigan was hit by a truly incredible blizzard. True, the snow didn’t stream down with unbearable force, nor was it accompanied by unbearable winds that customarily cut through all but the strongest eight-year-old snowsuit, but the state has effectively been shut down. Gas stations in Detroit and Toledo have been emptied, water and peanut butter have been hoarded with the fervency of Y2K, and only precious hours remain before school districts undoubtedly close their doors for Monday classes.

I, on the other hand, have spent a large part of my day watching my corgi run in the snow. For those of you that do not know, I have a five-year-old Welsh corgi named Mordin, and he is the greatest blessing in my life. Occasionally, he wakes me up at four in the morning, much to my chagrin, and throughout our first year together, accidents in the apartment were pretty commonplace.

He also has the shortest legs of any animal that I have ever encountered – this comes into play in just a second.

Coincidentally, today is also Super Bowl Sunday. For every year of my life, save one, I have watched the Super Bowl with my mom and dad, and this year, we kept the tradition alive by making the trip up last night and staying through today. My parents’ house holds many mysteries for their granddog, but most importantly, they have a yard in which he can freely run. Mordin adores running through their yard, and who could blame him? It’s a welcome change from the confined life of an apartment, but today’s snowfall added an additional obstacle for my little sausage dog.

Due to his hilariously proportioned legs, Mordin’s belly fails to rise above the snow, and each step requires a rocketed leap of considerable effort to traverse him across the blanketed yard. I was afraid that this would dampen an otherwise enjoyable day with the presence of a depressed, defeated corgi, but much to my surprise, he has spent the entire day sporting the biggest smile imaginable. The snow is new, the snow is fun, and he gets to run around with the people he loves.

Simple, right?

There are so many times in our lives that we forego the potential pleasure of simplicity in favor of predestined frustrations. Because our hypothetical ideal didn’t turn out perfectly, we admit defeat before we even attempt success. Mentality trumps reality before the coin flip. Come on, you don’t think that I could go through today without a single football metaphor.

Watching my corgi enjoying the bliss of simply running through the yard outside was particularly sobering as we walked through the fresh snowfall. The ground is cold, yet he keeps running. The wind kicks up, yet he keeps running. No matter what happens outside, he continues to enjoy himself, because he literally has all that he needs. The idea of excess or disappointment doesn’t remotely enter his mind, and why should it? My little guy is perfectly content where he is, and at the end of the day, it’s really only his opinion that matters.

Since I’ve graduated, I’ve had to battle quite a lot with this idea of simplistic happiness. I didn’t move out of state along with a lot of my friends, but because of that decision, I have been gifted with a lot of opportunities that would have never occurred to me before. Acting and teaching in my field pay my bills, and I get to see my family and friends at my leisure. Sure, to other people, I’m sure that some of that may not sound so spectacular, but in the simplicity of my current life, I find the most exquisite happiness. Obviously, there are some days that are better than others, and sometimes, I find myself staring at the ceiling that has just been water damaged by my upstairs neighbors wondering, “What the hell am I doing here?” But other times…I’m sitting at my parents’ house writing lesson plans for students that are excited to take my classes the week after two exciting auditions, and I look out at my corgi running playfully in the snow, and it’s damn near perfect.

Simplicity may not always be preferable to everyone, but I’m through letting anyone else’s idea of happiness define my own. You may say that the snow is too cold and my feet are two short, but me?

I’m just happy to run in the yard.