On Happiness and Authenticity

December 12, 2013

There are, in the heart of the vast Himalayas, some strange marketplaces where one can barter the whirlwind of life for infinite wisdom. - Jetsun Milarepa, Tibetan Yogi and Poet

While I’m in the country that uses Gross National Happiness (GNH) alongside GDP as a metric for development, here are some thoughts on happiness from author of Married to Bhutan, Linda Leaming:

“Since we’re all trying to be happy, and since I’ve studied happiness in depth for some time, I feel qualified to make some observations:

There will probably be some physical pain and some form of renunciation on the road to happiness.  No, I m not advocating masochism.  But once you take the road to happiness – the road less traveled, or the open road, or whatever you envision as your route to bliss – you have to be ready to face some discomfort.  Ironically, this will make you happier.  Try to avoid associating happiness with comfort.

We are hopelessly addicted to comfort in the U.S.  I submit that comfort is a diversion, and it’s not related to happiness.  We have plenty to eat, and though this should afford us some comfort, it doesn’t really.  As we collectively loosen our belts and try to touch our collective toes, we realize we’re not happy.  We’re too fat.  We’re unhealthy.  So we go buy some more stuff.  And maybe on the way home from the mall we get something to eat. 

It’s not just physical comfort we’re addicted to.  We are addicted to insulating ourselves from unpleasant realities.  The average Bhutanese knows much more about the world than the average American and goes through some discomfort, if you will, or at the very least some maneuverings, to pay attention to what’s going on.  Bhutan is small, fragile, and vulnerable.  It behooves the people of Bhutan to know their adversaries and to keep tabs on what’s happening in the rest of the world.  Americans don’t feel the urgency.  What we learn when we do look beyond our shores is uncomfortable and discontenting.  It’s more comortable to watch fake news about celebrities than to know what’s happening in China or Southern Sudan.   But events happening in China or Sudan affect us so much more because they are real.”  (pp. 157-158)

I continue to ponder the notion of authenticity as I consider what is “real.”  As I was writing postcards last night, I began thinking more about my time in Bhutan, as well as my larger experiences in Africa and the Indian subcontinent.  This year, I am celebrating Diwali (the Indian Festival of Lights) and National Day (for Bhutan’s king) instead of Thanksgiving and Christmas respectively.  For me, these last six months have been challenging, eye-opening, and dream-like.  I am seeing places and engaging in activities that I could only have conceived of in my wildest dreams: hiking through the remote Bhutanese jungle en route to visit farmers, threshing barley in the high Himalayas in preparation for winter, facilitating a school garden with ex-street boys in Tanzania, and learning how to milk goats in Maasai-land.  Sometimes I feel so full of elation and wonder with the world that I want to cry.  As I take in the sheer beauty of the surrounding natural environments, those so stunning that they appear as if they’ve been painted on canvas, I am afraid that if I blink, it will all dissipate into a dream-like fog.  And the cultural exchanges I’ve shared are jarring, overwhelming, and comforting.  My guide yesterday was a 28-year-old dropout, who was actually expelled from school for using marijuana (which grows rampantly in the wild) with his friends.  He is obsessed with China and wants to marry a Chinese girl and settle there one day.  He asked me what my favorite “tribe” in the world is (e.g. American, Indian, Bhutanese) and how I felt when Osama Bin Laden bombed the Twin Towers on 9/11.  I am working my way through The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman about the forces that shaped modern globalization and leveled the playing field for most of the world’s citizens.  It could not be more ironic and fitting as I encounter threads of my own American culture woven into the fabric of Bhutan’s development. 

Although I’m not very far into the book, here are some interesting points thus far from The World is Flat:

·         Communism keeps people equally poor but capitalism creates unequal wealth

·         The Indian growth rate before economic liberalization (~1990) was 3% compared to 7-8% after

·         Capitalism fuels innovation

·         But in my mind, the big question is: can we pursue capitalism sustainability and equitably?

And in the context of a “flat world,” I should note that Bhutan is relatively pristine, both environmentally and culturally.  It is not yet a member of the WTO (there are current national debates about whether to join), there are no MNCs present (e.g. Monsanto), and everything is very centrally planned (on the 11^th Five Year Plan for economic development, the government provides almost all services, and there is very little privatization).  As a country that has promoted Gross National Happiness since the 1970s, it will be very interesting to see how Bhutan’s development proceeds in the coming decades.

And while this has all been very novel and unreal for me, I have to maintain that this is obviously the raw and quotidian existence for everyone with whom I come into contact.  Try as I might, this will never be my world, especially as a jump around to different households.  But I will continue to work hard in the coming months to bridge this gap between my mental “bubble” and the lives of my hosts.

Moreover, during my subsequent homestays, I realize that Dawa and his family are my “Kirans” of Bhutan (in reference to my very positive homestay with a man named Kiran in Hyderabad, Andra Pradesh, India, which was comfortable, filled with good company, and educational), while I just don’t feel as at ease with my new family in Sarpang Dzonkhag.  I am missing Dawa’s jolly laugh and the fact that everyone seemed to be constantly smiling.  Things made sense at my homestay in Tsirang.  I could help prepare dinner, wash the dishes, and milk the cows.  Here, the cows aren’t even friendly, ha (i.e. they might not give milk if a stranger milks them or better, they might kick).  It’s not that the new host family here is not friendly, but the Dad doesn’t speak much English (or he doesn’t feel comfortable using it) and the two kids (17 year old son and 16 year old daughter who is only in the equivalent of the 4^th grade because she started school late and missed exams from being in the hospital) speak some English but we don’t have too much to stay to each other.  I miss knowing how things worked at Dawa’s.  Now I feel like a bit of a burden here since I am only staying for one night and they are treating me too much like a guest.  I want to learn and participate but not watch Hellboy in Hindi.  I think that my hosts at my last three homestays were confused and overwhelmed – they didn’t know what to do with me since I was a foreign visitor.  Furthermore, it was difficult for me to insist that I wanted to help, learn, and work, but also not be a burden or liability in the field, getting in the way and being inefficient and clumsy with the tools.    And sure, my new family has a television and a gas stove, but they don’t seem any happier.  In contrast, Dawa’s house did not have a proper kitchen or a TV but they seemed to derive contentment from each other’s company. 

And while we’re on the topic of happiness, here’s some more food for thought:

“Renunciation follows the desire for happiness naturally, but in our national disconnect, we can no longer intuit that small is beautiful and less is more.  The inclination of Americans is to pile it on, get more, supersize, acquire: larger houses, bigger pants and bigger cars, more gadgets, another piece of cake – and eat up more of the ozone while you’re at it.   Our recent economic problems drive home the point.  The way we live is unsustainable.  Now we’re all beginning to see.

Giving up, letting go, pushing away, peeling off and culling will make you happier.  I know you don’t believe this.  But answer this question: How happy are you now with all your stuff?  Are you blissful?  Will a new set of towels make you blissful?  If so, for how long?

Another truth about happiness is this: Ultimately, no one else can make you happy.  You have to do it for yourself.  But you know this already.  If other people make you happy, then great – it’s value added.  But we put way too much pressure on our loved ones when we make them responsible for our happiness.  Which leads to my last point: Happiness doesn’t come from outside forces.  It comes from how you view the outside forces.  It comes from inside.  In other words, attitude is everything.   You can train yourself, like your mom trained you to wash your hands before meals, to have an attitude that is conducive to happiness. 

The first thing you do is think about death.  Several times a day.  This will clarify a lot for you.  It’s a shortcut, because, in the end, so much of what we do is to avoid thinking about our end, so focusing on it will help stabilize your mind.  A stable mind won’t make you happy, but it will set the stage for happiness.  Next, just like you train your mind to think about death, so you can train it to manifest gratitude.  If you have two arms and two legs, be grateful for them.  If not, be grateful for the air your breathe, and then take a good deep breath.  Look for other things to be grateful about; be grateful you’re alive.” (pp. 158-159)