Flutterbugs of anticipation
Research tells us that positively anticipating the future is a great way to create positive emotions. It seems that mentally simulating future scenarios activates the brain’s reward system and releases dopamine. And, studies suggest anticipating future events may even be more pleasurable than the events themselves! Commit to planning things that bring happiness by building in anticipation.
Our deck is a mishmash of plants and trees. Some, like the Japanese maple and ligularia, have been growing in pots for over ten years. They survive year after year, through heavy snowfalls, blustery winds, and scorching days. Most of my plants, though, are hit and miss; their yearly return is not predicated by any care and nurturing I may give them. Soon, the deck will be lush with foliage and flowers - but this stage of early growth is the one I love the most. For the last month, I have checked in on every plant almost daily, waiting for new growth to break through the soil, and hoping that buds will appear.
My hostas grow bigger yearly, but you would not think it in early spring when only bare stumps are visible. The day that stubby new growth finally pokes through the dirt always make me smile. Last year, I planted poppies for the first time, purchased from a local gardener whose property is a delight to wander through. Success! The heavy buds dip elegantly from their stalks, and I am eager to see the flowers slowly emerge. The chives are also alive with lilac-tinged buds, growing tall in the herb garden.
I have a shelving unit, hidden away at the end of the deck by our bedroom, where dying plants live their final days. The potted lupin has more brown than green leaves. The campanula only has one stalk of new growth. And the plant tucked in the furthest corner, only visible from the small window in our bedroom, consists of brown stalks with only a few green spiky leaves. I still sporadically water these plants, hopeful that miracles may happen.
Earlier this week, I watered them, and a junco flew out of the spiky-leaved plant and began chittering to me from the deck railing. We have had juncos nesting on the deck before, and my heart lifted and fell as I realised I had disturbed a nest. I carefully lifted the plant from the shelf for a closer look. Four tiny blue speckled eggs floated in water. While mama continued to sound her alarm from a branch on the willow, I gently tipped the plant to drain the water. Then I returned the plant to the shelf, carefully placing it in the same position, with the nest facing the bedroom window. I watched from a distance until, a few minutes later, mama finally flew back into the nest.
All week, I have been peeking out of the bedroom window to ensure the juncos were returning to the nest, worried that my interference might have caused irreversible damage to the eggs.
As I am sure you have experienced, anticipation and anxiety can coexist. The flip side of positive anticipation is anticipatory anxiety — and the fascinating thing, says Dr. Christian E. Waugh, a psychology professor at Wake Forest University who studies anticipation, is that they often happen together. “Anxiety and excitement are sister emotions.”
Well, that’s what I have been feeling all week. Would the eggs hatch?
The nest is so deep, it is impossible to see mama sitting on her eggs. Every morning, I would patiently stand back from the window and watch, waiting for her to fly to or from the nest. During the day, despite the cold wind, I would wrap myself in a blanket and curl up on an Adirondack with my eyes fixed on the pot. And yes, every day I would see her flying back and forth. On Friday, I noted that both parents were flying to the nest more frequently. I went into the bedroom to take a peek. Just then, one of the juncos flew to the plant. Up popped one, two, three, four greedy, open mouths! My flutterbugs settled, and I felt an immense sense of relief.
(L to R): Poppies about to bloom, junco fledglings eager for food (stock photo), chives alive with lilac-tinged buds, my grandbaby almost ready to make an appearance.
When I initially decided to write about anticipation earlier this week, I planned to share the story of these fledglings as a prelude to another much anticipated birth, the new grandbaby joining our family any day now. Yet, as I began writing, my focus shifted to life’s small joys.
Anticipation is one of my favourite emotions, even more so as I have gotten older. I wrote about anticipation five years ago in a blog post called The Honey Effect.
“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think. Because, although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.” - A. A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
I took my own advice from that blog post and made a commitment to planning things that bring me happiness by building in anticipation. Research tells us that positively anticipating the future is a great way to create positive emotions. Studies suggest anticipating future events may even be more pleasurable than the events themselves. It seems that mentally simulating future scenarios activates the brain’s reward system and releases dopamine.
I read the last paragraph from The Honey Effect and realised the small moments that fed my feelings of anticipation five years ago remain the same, with only minor adjustments.
Nature, pets, travel, stories, books – and human connections! These all offer wonderful experiences that I can draw out by building in anticipation.
Have you thought about how anticipation feeds your happiness? Do simple things fill you with anticipation? Like Pooh, what moments, just before you do something, are almost better than the moment itself?
Flutterbugs are fictional creatures, a cross between a butterfly and a firefly, featured in the Fraggle Rock storybook series. The word has always appealed to me as a balance between positive anticipation is anticipatory anxiety.