Musing on Hedonic Adaptation
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Lydia Fell
Aug 10, 2010, 2:58:54 PM8/10/10
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“Hedonic Adaptation,” def: a phenomenon in which people quickly become used to changes, great or terrible, in order to maintain a stable level of happiness.
Think about this. Hedonic Adaptation affects every single one of us who are reading this log; it applies to mankind as a whole. It affects those of us who are going through a financial crisis and are being forced, like it or not, to painfully downsize in every way imaginable. (The good news for you folks, is that you’re going to get used to this new discomfort soon, so that it will no longer leave you emotionally aching). It affects those of us who have reached a happy state of keeping-up-with-the-Joneses, except that we’re not so happy about it anymore. It affects people who are living their passion, but three years into it, are looking for more. Like me.
I’m not dissatisfied; I’m grateful. In fact, I’m grateful on a daily basis – truly. But I’m missing my “Wow!”s.
Wouldn’t you think that retiring early, following my dream, living on our sailboat with a man that I adore, who brings out the very best in me (because, as my children will testify, there’s definitely a not-so-pretty, worst-of-me too) – wouldn’t you think that would be enough? Wouldn’t you think that the freedom that this lifestyle affords, the opportunity to move your home on a whim and a wind shift, sailing amid exquisite beauty and experiencing different cultures, is more than any human being could ask for? Yeah – you’d think so. I thought so, too.
Remember when I first started this log, when I was worried that my anticipated Paradise would become routine? That perhaps the grass was always greener? Sadly, it’s true. It’s called Hedonic Adaptation. Evidently, I’m always looking for the Wow …. and when it’s not there anymore, I have to keep looking.
Don’t get me wrong. Wild horses couldn’t drag me off this boat. I feel I’ve reached an equilibrium in my life, which I suppose is unique to each one of us, where I’m finally comfortable and at peace with what I have, what I don’t have, and what’s around me. This is It, for me. This is the culmination of my Life. But then, there’s that other fact – that it’s gone on for 3 years now, and I’m not having to fight for it. The anticipation of seeing something new is gone, because I’ve already seen it. At the risk of sounding crass and ungrateful (although I know it does, anyway), “been there, done that”.
Back to the definition of Hedonic Adaptation. One quickly gets used to one’s circumstances, good or bad, in order to maintain a stable level of happiness. OK – I’m happy. I’m very happy, but I still want the thrill of the New. I want to maintain the daily awe that my grandson, Harrison, experiences at just two years old. He says, “Wow! That’s amazing!” nearly every day, and means it. There was never a truer expression than, “there’s never a time like the first time.”
Maybe this is what drives cruisers through the Panama Canal and on around the world in their little boats, seeking the new experience of each different island and culture, dropping anchor off a country that only makes National Geographic, and never the World News. It sounds good to me – very good. But then, there’s all that ocean between the islands and those long, long passages. And the fear … let’s not forget the fear, of the storms.
I reflect on what it must be like to have done a circumnavigation, not as a racer or record breaker, but as a real journey, savoring one’s way around. I can’t imagine having that experience tucked under my belt; I’d have to wonder what you do after that for your Wows. But what about the cruisers who report that they had to sail through the Great Garbage Patch, hundreds of miles of garbage out in the middle of the Pacific ocean – great piles of plastic reputedly the size of the state of Texas, and growing? How would it make me feel to witness something so destructive, so devastating to our marine life, so utterly man-made? Would I want to kill myself, or would Hedonic Adaptation set in, and I’d become used to the idea?
I think it’s time to plan a trip to the Caribbean next year, after Emily’s wedding is behind us. Time to move on and explore new horizons.
Our month ashore in July with the kids and grand-kids was, at my end, pretty hectic for the first couple of weeks as we got things readied for Emily and Patrick’s engagement party, which Jessica and Peter were hosting. Jessica had done all the leg work before I got there, bless her weary heart, and the party was a huge success and enjoyed by all. All my children were there except Oliver, who was in school in Florida at the time. It was especially lovely for me to see all the young kids – now nearing 30 years old – who used to frequent our house when my children were growing up. It was really a fun and memorable evening.
Art, the kid’s dad, was visiting from England too. After the party was over, he and I drove to Charleston to visit Emily and Patrick in their new apartment in West Ashley, and did the historic district together. Such a cool city, and so full of young people. Emily and I had an amazing day shopping for her wedding dress. I never imagined how emotional I’d feel when she found, (and quickly, I might add), the perfect dress. It was a fantastic day to store in my Precious Memories bank.
Then it was back to Jessica’s in the mountains, for snatched time with Oliver who had driven up from Florida, and Jessica, who had been too busy to blow her nose before the party, and my last few days with Harrison. What a funny little guy he is, and so fun to be with. I miss him terribly.
Re-entry from our boat life to the States gets more and more dramatic each time we go, and in direct proportion to the growing technological world. I’m so far behind what’s become ordinary, day-to-day tech stuff now, that I feel like a complete idiot. I can barely answer a phone lest I press the wrong button and lose the call, or worse still, take the call and be holding the phone upside down so that Skip, who was on the other end, can’t understand why he can’t hear me, despite my resorting to yelling in the earpiece! I was tempted to ask Harrison how to change the channel on the TV to avoid utter Direct TV chaos as a result. I’m getting an appreciation for how my mother, or Skip’s dad must have felt when they were being gently urged by their children to get with the PC program, or else be left behind for good. I suppose when you’re living in the exponential growth of technology, you assimilate it as it comes. When you’re approaching it from the outside, the rate of growth is staggering. I can’t help wondering what Harrison will see and experience at the turn of the next century when he’s 92, which medical scientists would assure me is nearly a given. These days of iPhones, iPads and satellite TV will likely become the dark ages to him. The mind boggles.
Portia, as usual, was a compliant (if not appreciative) traveler during all this, and figured out the new doggy door at Jessica’s after one demonstration. She had a lovely vacation of her own, spending the nights outside and showing up with a face full of cobwebs in the mornings, evidence that she was having fun exploring. I managed to find the Clemastine anti-histamine pills I’d been recommended to try for her itchiness, and one dose seemed to break the cycle after six months of relentless scratching. Now 10 days later, all her bald patches are nearly grown in, and she’s a happy kitty. We had a great sail here yesterday to our current anchorage just outside Great Guana Harbour in 15-23 knots. She’d been sleeping in the cockpit when we unfurled the sails, and while she didn’t move, she gave me a notable dirty look as if to say, “Shit – do we really have to do this again?” Aside from the fact that she doesn’t like sailing, per se, she seems to be a very content boat kitty, and all the angst I felt a few months back about her not having any quality of life has dissipated.
Since we’re about to enter peak hurricane season, there are few cruisers still around. But those who are take turns keeping the morning Cruisers Net on the VHF radio up and running, and check in with each other daily. Dick and Carol (and kitty, Annie) are here on their boat Gusto – a testament to living the life of simplicity aboard as full time cruisers. They are both in their mid-70’s, and are still enjoying the lifestyle. I admire their stamina, and pray that we, too, will still be able-bodied and appreciating life on Flying Pig when we reach their ages. They are remarkable.
OK. Time for boat chores. Hope this finds you safe, well and happy.
--
Love, Lydia
S/V Flying Pig
Morgan 46 #2
"The only way to live is to have a dream green and growing in your life - anything else is just existing and is a waste of breath."
Ann Davison
Think about this. Hedonic Adaptation affects every single one of us who are reading this log; it applies to mankind as a whole. It affects those of us who are going through a financial crisis and are being forced, like it or not, to painfully downsize in every way imaginable. (The good news for you folks, is that you’re going to get used to this new discomfort soon, so that it will no longer leave you emotionally aching). It affects those of us who have reached a happy state of keeping-up-with-the-Joneses, except that we’re not so happy about it anymore. It affects people who are living their passion, but three years into it, are looking for more. Like me.
I’m not dissatisfied; I’m grateful. In fact, I’m grateful on a daily basis – truly. But I’m missing my “Wow!”s.
Wouldn’t you think that retiring early, following my dream, living on our sailboat with a man that I adore, who brings out the very best in me (because, as my children will testify, there’s definitely a not-so-pretty, worst-of-me too) – wouldn’t you think that would be enough? Wouldn’t you think that the freedom that this lifestyle affords, the opportunity to move your home on a whim and a wind shift, sailing amid exquisite beauty and experiencing different cultures, is more than any human being could ask for? Yeah – you’d think so. I thought so, too.
Remember when I first started this log, when I was worried that my anticipated Paradise would become routine? That perhaps the grass was always greener? Sadly, it’s true. It’s called Hedonic Adaptation. Evidently, I’m always looking for the Wow …. and when it’s not there anymore, I have to keep looking.
Don’t get me wrong. Wild horses couldn’t drag me off this boat. I feel I’ve reached an equilibrium in my life, which I suppose is unique to each one of us, where I’m finally comfortable and at peace with what I have, what I don’t have, and what’s around me. This is It, for me. This is the culmination of my Life. But then, there’s that other fact – that it’s gone on for 3 years now, and I’m not having to fight for it. The anticipation of seeing something new is gone, because I’ve already seen it. At the risk of sounding crass and ungrateful (although I know it does, anyway), “been there, done that”.
Back to the definition of Hedonic Adaptation. One quickly gets used to one’s circumstances, good or bad, in order to maintain a stable level of happiness. OK – I’m happy. I’m very happy, but I still want the thrill of the New. I want to maintain the daily awe that my grandson, Harrison, experiences at just two years old. He says, “Wow! That’s amazing!” nearly every day, and means it. There was never a truer expression than, “there’s never a time like the first time.”
Maybe this is what drives cruisers through the Panama Canal and on around the world in their little boats, seeking the new experience of each different island and culture, dropping anchor off a country that only makes National Geographic, and never the World News. It sounds good to me – very good. But then, there’s all that ocean between the islands and those long, long passages. And the fear … let’s not forget the fear, of the storms.
I reflect on what it must be like to have done a circumnavigation, not as a racer or record breaker, but as a real journey, savoring one’s way around. I can’t imagine having that experience tucked under my belt; I’d have to wonder what you do after that for your Wows. But what about the cruisers who report that they had to sail through the Great Garbage Patch, hundreds of miles of garbage out in the middle of the Pacific ocean – great piles of plastic reputedly the size of the state of Texas, and growing? How would it make me feel to witness something so destructive, so devastating to our marine life, so utterly man-made? Would I want to kill myself, or would Hedonic Adaptation set in, and I’d become used to the idea?
I think it’s time to plan a trip to the Caribbean next year, after Emily’s wedding is behind us. Time to move on and explore new horizons.
Our month ashore in July with the kids and grand-kids was, at my end, pretty hectic for the first couple of weeks as we got things readied for Emily and Patrick’s engagement party, which Jessica and Peter were hosting. Jessica had done all the leg work before I got there, bless her weary heart, and the party was a huge success and enjoyed by all. All my children were there except Oliver, who was in school in Florida at the time. It was especially lovely for me to see all the young kids – now nearing 30 years old – who used to frequent our house when my children were growing up. It was really a fun and memorable evening.
Art, the kid’s dad, was visiting from England too. After the party was over, he and I drove to Charleston to visit Emily and Patrick in their new apartment in West Ashley, and did the historic district together. Such a cool city, and so full of young people. Emily and I had an amazing day shopping for her wedding dress. I never imagined how emotional I’d feel when she found, (and quickly, I might add), the perfect dress. It was a fantastic day to store in my Precious Memories bank.
Then it was back to Jessica’s in the mountains, for snatched time with Oliver who had driven up from Florida, and Jessica, who had been too busy to blow her nose before the party, and my last few days with Harrison. What a funny little guy he is, and so fun to be with. I miss him terribly.
Re-entry from our boat life to the States gets more and more dramatic each time we go, and in direct proportion to the growing technological world. I’m so far behind what’s become ordinary, day-to-day tech stuff now, that I feel like a complete idiot. I can barely answer a phone lest I press the wrong button and lose the call, or worse still, take the call and be holding the phone upside down so that Skip, who was on the other end, can’t understand why he can’t hear me, despite my resorting to yelling in the earpiece! I was tempted to ask Harrison how to change the channel on the TV to avoid utter Direct TV chaos as a result. I’m getting an appreciation for how my mother, or Skip’s dad must have felt when they were being gently urged by their children to get with the PC program, or else be left behind for good. I suppose when you’re living in the exponential growth of technology, you assimilate it as it comes. When you’re approaching it from the outside, the rate of growth is staggering. I can’t help wondering what Harrison will see and experience at the turn of the next century when he’s 92, which medical scientists would assure me is nearly a given. These days of iPhones, iPads and satellite TV will likely become the dark ages to him. The mind boggles.
Portia, as usual, was a compliant (if not appreciative) traveler during all this, and figured out the new doggy door at Jessica’s after one demonstration. She had a lovely vacation of her own, spending the nights outside and showing up with a face full of cobwebs in the mornings, evidence that she was having fun exploring. I managed to find the Clemastine anti-histamine pills I’d been recommended to try for her itchiness, and one dose seemed to break the cycle after six months of relentless scratching. Now 10 days later, all her bald patches are nearly grown in, and she’s a happy kitty. We had a great sail here yesterday to our current anchorage just outside Great Guana Harbour in 15-23 knots. She’d been sleeping in the cockpit when we unfurled the sails, and while she didn’t move, she gave me a notable dirty look as if to say, “Shit – do we really have to do this again?” Aside from the fact that she doesn’t like sailing, per se, she seems to be a very content boat kitty, and all the angst I felt a few months back about her not having any quality of life has dissipated.
Since we’re about to enter peak hurricane season, there are few cruisers still around. But those who are take turns keeping the morning Cruisers Net on the VHF radio up and running, and check in with each other daily. Dick and Carol (and kitty, Annie) are here on their boat Gusto – a testament to living the life of simplicity aboard as full time cruisers. They are both in their mid-70’s, and are still enjoying the lifestyle. I admire their stamina, and pray that we, too, will still be able-bodied and appreciating life on Flying Pig when we reach their ages. They are remarkable.
OK. Time for boat chores. Hope this finds you safe, well and happy.
Love, Lydia
S/V Flying Pig
Morgan 46 #2
"The only way to live is to have a dream green and growing in your life - anything else is just existing and is a waste of breath."
Ann Davison
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