Black and white Catahoula hound sitting curled up on a deckchair.

How To Be Happy Being Yourself

How To Be Happy Being Yourself

Find your island. I prefer mine whimsical.

The island itself is small. It needs only to accommodate one person at a time. Lush or barren depending on the visitor. Inside its shores lay comfort, peace, or laughter. Again, depending on the visitor. Its only universal purpose is to provide a location for the visitor to blend their hopes into a place that won't argue about it. I find myself visiting the Island of Delusion often. Almost every day. More so now that Angus, our Catahoula hound, came home.

I sat on the sandy shore of my island and proclaimed, "Of course this hound will not dig holes in the backyard." The sun declared my righteousness as I shielded my eyes to accept its nod of agreement.

The sun and I had communed on this same shore years before. It declared my righteous belief that macaws will not eat my furniture. I was wearing sunglasses that time. But the nod of agreement shown down through those polarized rose-colored lenses.

I like my island. It's lush in the middle with tan sanded shores welcoming the washing of its edges by salty warm waters. I have three coconut trees in the center. Their shade offers moving spots on my sandy shores to sit, while I wash my feet in salty watered delusional thoughts. My island sustains my whimsy, and my need to not take everything so serious.

Angus dug two holes while the sun laughed behind my back. They gape wide next to the backyard fence. They are both the same size, with the ability to accommodate the diameter of his new ball. Here in Florida, it's all sand. The first four inches of sand is dirty silt colored. But below that, its light tan, like my island. I need to fill them back in, but webbed dog feet scatter sand excavated. There's no sign of the sand he threw. I'll need a rack rather than a shovel.

But first a trip back to my island. I need to consult the sun and invigorate my confidence that Angus surely will not dig another hole. My feet sink toes first into wet sand kissed by soft salty waves. The sun warms my face while I lean back on elbows. The sun and I smile at each other. And we laugh and laugh. Surely Angus will not dig another hole.

Your Island is where you need no permissions.

It is impossible to be content and grateful if you worry about what others think about you. What others think about you is none of your business. You need not worry about their permission. On your island, do what makes you stronger. On your island, when in doubt; don't. 

Everyone's island should support them as individuals, without permissions.

If we each walk in gratitude and contentment offering reciprocity as we go, no one will be left behind.

Alas, I'm pretty sure Angus will dig holes no matter what I'm doing on my island.

Kathy LaFollett is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to

Leave a comment

* Required fields