Today I Choose to be Merry – How to be Merry

It’s November 3rd and Target is already playing Christmas music. The command to “be merry” has begun, two full months before the actual holiday. By December 26th, my merry will have curdled into something darker.

But today, early November, I can still access genuine merry. Not the manufactured kind with matching sweaters. The real kind that bubbles up unexpectedly.

Merry Outside the Holiday Complex

Last week, I felt genuinely merry watching two elderly men at the park arguing about whether a dog was a golden retriever or a lab. They were so invested, consulting other dog walkers like expert witnesses. The dog, meanwhile, was eating garbage. I laughed until I snorted.

That’s merry. Nothing to do with holidays. Just life being absurd and delightful simultaneously.

The Merry Resistance

I’ve started a personal rebellion against mandatory merry. When someone says “You must be so merry about the holidays!” I respond with what actually makes me merry:

– My husband trying to fold fitted sheets (performance art)
– Finding the perfect avocado (minor miracle)
– Canceling plans I didn’t want (pure merry)
– Dog’s face realizing we’re going to the park (explosive merry)
– Successfully avoiding small talk (stealth merry)

None require December or decorations. They’re available year-round.

The Physics of Merry

I’ve noticed merry has momentum. One genuinely merry moment leads to another. This morning, merry about perfect coffee led to merry about the bird outside, which led to merry about having nowhere to be until noon.

By 10 AM, I was practically carbonated with merry. Not because anything amazing happened. Just because I kept noticing small delights.

But forced merry? Opposite effect. Each mandatory “ho ho ho” drains the tank.

Merry as Choice, Not Season

Yesterday was objectively unmerry. Dentist. Parking ticket. Burnt dinner. But then my husband put on 80s music and we had an impromptu kitchen dance party. Terrible dancing. Excellent merry.

That’s what I’ve learned at 61: merry isn’t about circumstances. It’s about finding lightness and letting it in. Even on dentist days.

The Merry Archive

I keep mental merry moments to access when needed:

– Grandson trying to tell jokes but forgetting punchlines
– The judgmental cat who visits our yard
– Best friend’s laugh that sounds like a goose
– Husband mispronouncing quinoa (every time)
– That time I accidentally went to the wrong wedding reception

These memories are merry deposits I can withdraw anytime.

Sustainable Merry Practice

Instead of saving all merry for December, I practice year-round:

January: First coffee after dry January
March: Flowers through snow
May: Not needing a coat
July: Tomatoes that taste like tomatoes
September: Kids back to school
November: Soup season

Each month has its own merry if you look.

When Merry Won’t Come

Some days, merry feels impossible. Grief, worry, pain block it. On those days, I don’t force it. I look for merry’s quieter cousins: wry amusement, gentle appreciation, mild contentment.

Today’s Manifesto

Today I choose merry on my terms. Not because the calendar says so. But because life is absurd and difficult and occasionally wonderful, and merry acknowledges all three.

I’ll find it in unexpected places: coffee swirls, dog sighs, my husband’s inability to find things directly in front of him.

And when December comes with mandatory merry, I’ll have been practicing all year. Not performance merry. Real merry that shows up in parking lots and ordinary Tuesdays.

That’s the merry worth choosing. The merry that lasts past January.

Just life being ridiculous and wonderful, and us choosing to celebrate the ridiculousness.

That’s merry enough for me.