By Susan McCorkindale
It's been 4 years considering the fact that Susan's husband dragged her kicking and screaming from their cozy, enormous urban East Coast lifestyles to a farm in Virginia farm animals state. Susan's adjusting as top she will be able to, which isn't effortless contemplating she's been recognized to put on Manolos in manure. She'll by no means be a true farm woman, yet as readers will see from her part- splitting confessions, she's faking it simply wonderful.
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Extra info for 500 Acres and No Place to Hide: More Confessions of a Counterfeit Farm Girl
In other words, people have an inborn disposition that’s set within a certain range, but they can boost themselves to the top of their happiness range or push themselves down to the bottom of their happiness range by their actions. This finding confirmed my own observations. It seems obvious that some people are more naturally ebullient or melancholic than others and that, at the same time, people’s decisions about how to live their lives also affect their happiness. The second question: What is “happiness”?
But I craved an existence of order and serenity—which, translated into real life, meant a household with coats hung in the closet and spare rolls of paper towels. I was also weighed down by the invisible, but even more enervating, psychic clutter of loose ends. I had a long list of neglected tasks that made me feel weary and guilty whenever I thought of them. I needed to clear away the detritus in my mind. I decided to tackle the visible clutter first, and I discovered something surprising: the psychologists and social scientists who do happiness research never mention clutter at all.
Of course she was right. They say that people teach what they need to learn. By adopting the role of happiness teacher, if only for myself, I was trying to find the method to conquer my particular faults and limitations. It was time to expect more of myself. Yet as I thought about happiness, I kept running up against paradoxes. I wanted to change myself but accept myself. I wanted to take myself less seriously—and also more seriously. I wanted to use my time well, but I also wanted to wander, to play, to read at whim.
500 Acres and No Place to Hide: More Confessions of a Counterfeit Farm Girl by Susan McCorkindale