Blizzard

On the second day of our ski trip in Hokkaido, we were hit by a massive snow storm bringing gusts of wind up and plunging temperatures down. All the way below minus twenty degrees.

I was skiing on beginner terrain with my daughter. We passed each other. Our eyes met for a half second. Maybe less. Then we accelerated, turned right and left, concentrating on finding the way downslope. We seemed lost, dazed, as if we relied more on memory than vision to locate the path. Alas, only the most intrepid skier, if not Yeti, would dare to continue in such cluttered condition.

Without hesitating, we cut short the mountain activity. The afternoon was better spent indoor, I thought. Perhaps a book to read with a cup of coffee. In another moment, I was brewing coffee.

Bringing with me a novel has always been my travel plan. This time, by coincidence, I had All the Light We Cannot See. This novel's title more or less sums up my experience with the snow storm.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

We hear story after story of the extraordinary dreams which came true and flourished. Not too many stories get passed along, though. Not that great stories can't pass down from generation to generation, most of them can, but they never stick inside our heads as we get old.

Think Mary Poppins, a classic and evergreen story. We all remember the two cheerful children, Michael and his sister Jane. Who won't? Their names bring to mind supercalifragilisticexpialidocious flying adventure with a magical nanny and a chimney sweep. They were jolly. Well, up to a point.

That's what I found out when I brought my daughter to watch the sequel movie Mary Poppins Returns this morning. The two of them had grown up, and were preoccupied by all those no-nonsense adult business, from plumbing leaks to the bank loan. We all sensed how their appearances had changed. In which all their humor had been handed in and vanished.

Under the watchful eye of the Great Slump, Michael and Jane exchanged surprised looks when they heard the mantra "Everything is possible - even the impossible." They could no longer believe in that.

But they were wrong.

In the same way we needed to grow up when we were children, now that we are adults we need to grow down. If growing up means getting mature, growing down is about learning again to become more open, curious and creative.

Questioner

I'm not a huge believer in the value of personality typing. Is it possible, I wonder, to define people by the Myers-Briggs typology? 

We are tempted to have a neat categorization. That's one good reason supporting the axiom that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who divide the world into two kinds of people, and those who don't.

Whatever group you are in, chances are pretty good that you, like me, will thoroughly enjoy reading The Four Tendencies by the bestselling self-help author Gretchen Rubin. I did. This book is about classifying people into four Tendencies: Upholders, Questioners, Obligers, and Rebels. What Gretchen means by this is that any person can be classified by his or her response to outer expectations and inner expectations.

If you'd like to know the distinctions among the Tendencies, think about the lightbulb jokes that capture the framework.

How do you get an Upholder to change a lightbulb?
Answer: He's already changed it. (Upholder responds readily to both outer and inner expectations.)

How do you get a Questioner to change a lightbulb?
Answer: Why do we need that lightbulb anyway? (Questioner questions all expectations and responds to an expectation only if he believes it's justified.)

How do you get an Obliger to change a lightbulb?
Answer: Ask him to change it. (Obliger responds readily to outer expectations but struggles to meet inner ones.)

How do you get a Rebel to change a lightbulb?
Answer: Do it yourself. (Rebel resists all expectations, outer and inner alike.)

After I took the quiz to test my Tendency, I felt a sudden jolt. Whew. Looking back, I realize that I've been a Questioner. Questioners often refuse to follow an accepted practice. That's me. I meet an expectation only if I endorse it as efficient and reasonable in the first place. For instance, my family keeps reminding me to have breakfast, but I didn't think that's necessary.

I question even this very basic rule. "Do I have to have breakfast? Why shouldn't I be allowed to skip that?"

It may seem that I’m stubborn, but this is not the case. I am simply a Questioner who requires solid justifications. After exhaustive research, I'd been recently convinced the health value of breakfast. Since then, I have been having regular breakfast. Every morning.

Exercise

Sometimes, we want a game that doesn't have to be taken too seriously. Sometimes, there is nothing quite as satisfying as having fun than winning.

It's exactly what our family did this Friday night. Three days ago, my wife bought a basketball. What better time to start exercising? I reminded myself to return home earlier, in order to head for the sports ground soon after dinner.

We discovered that the basketball field was too crowded to practice shooting. Our enthusiasm to exercise didn't slip, as we had plenty tips to get pumped to workout. We tried rope skipping exercise, basketball drills like air passes and bounce passes. Then jogging time around the running track. Or planking exercise. As I took part in what seemed like an athletics meet, I could not help but count my endorphins surge.

We stayed till eleven and, sadly, the basketball field remained occupied by die-hard basketball buffs. The upside was, by the time we had finished our exercises that late, most kids had gone home, leaving the adjacent playground all to my daughter.

"Yeah."

Chairs

During this time of the year, we find ourselves going through the ritual of spring cleaning. Some of us wish to get our houses in shape for visits. Or simply a matter of embracing a new year with fresh beginning.

Chances are you'll clean out the old to make room for the new furniture, new calendar, new wardrobe collection, and new you.

And, to this end, I am grateful to have four dining chairs delivered from abroad last week - after what seemed like an eternity. We placed our order four months ago. Much as I love the new furniture, I must say that I love the timing of new chairs' arrival more. Timing wasn't everything. But it was a big thing.

All of which is not to say that I like the way we have new chairs at the beginning of a new year. The best part, it turned out, is buying the new chairs to replace worn-out ones now that my daughter is old enough to help me assemble them. Unpacking and reading the instruction with my daughter are simply the formula for family joy, second only to that of assembling new chairs together. We won't forget the laughter at my making mistakes - not too loudly please - and then the sense of satisfaction after putting the last pieces in place.

Balance

It's now definitely one of our favourite times of the year to make a fresh resolution. But there comes a question we're never quite prepared for - how to pick the right resolution.

While we wish it were otherwise, most of us don't know what yardstick to measure a successful life. One might a specific and measurable goal. A number. Focus on a number and make the number go up (say, money), or down (think body weight). That sounds simple and neat. I am not alone in this view. I bet you do, too.

After reading Eric Barker's book Barking Up the Wrong Tree, I felt as if my view has changed. Eric Barker added two interesting twists. First, we should avoid using a "collapsing strategy" - collapsing everything into one barometer of whether or not our life is on track. Take what happens to a guy who throws everything into one bucket, such as making more money. The more often we make money and the more money we make, the more happy we will be. That pretty much sounds logical. Well, not necessarily. We might then miss out another area of life, like the relationships with our family.

The second overarching message from Eric Barker on setting goal is to watch out the pitfall of so-called "sequencing strategy." An example of sequencing is First I'll work a job I hate and make a lot of money and then I'll have a family and then I'll do what I want and be happy. Unfortunately, as Eric Barker pointed out, life is just never that clear-cut. Try as you might, you can't sequence relationships. By the time problems arise in the relationships, it is too late. Sorry.

Pleasure

Everyone finds that vacation offers a quantum leap in happiness.

Taking a two-week vacation, according to a German study of teachers, is an ideal way of handling stress at workplace; it increased work engagement and decreased burnout for up to a month. I know how it feels: the vacation makes you feel like Popeye after a can of spinach.

But hear me out. The truth is, we can't justify overwork simply because we have had a trip. The researchers found that too much stress after coming back to work make the effects last less than a month. That's not to say that we shouldn't take vacation. But be under no illusions - when we carve out time now and then for many short breaks, the effect is much better than an once-in-a-blue-moon long vacation. Ask enough people how they fare in the search for happiness and you'll appreciate the theory of hedonic treadmill: our general tendency to return to a set level of happiness despite life's ups and downs.

And I have been thinking about a more strategic schedule in setting aside time in small steps. Yes, that means I don't need too many long vacations; I should preserve time for short breaks. On the first day of the year, for example, our family's chemistry for happiness is to have a bike ride and then a short run. That simple formula turns out to be the biggest contentment.