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Our hidden happiness

Our hidden happiness

Sunlight shining through dark cloudsJessica Grose is an insightful New York Times columnist, writing about matters of culture and daily life rather than politics or news events. Her most recent essay asks the provocative question, “Are We Happy Yet?” She begins by telling of her experience monitoring her activities three times a day with a phone app from something called TrackYourHappiness.org.

The survey … asks me a series of questions about what I was doing the moment right before I take it, whether I wanted to be doing it, how focused I was on my task, how productive I was being and how happy I felt about it all. I measure my emotional levels with a little toggle that slides from “bad” to “good.”

The survey’s creators believe that the more focused we are on our activities, the more satisfaction we receive from them. Grose, however, found that her app responses were actually revealing how many necessary activities she performed (“folding laundry”) that she really didn’t want to do. But then the app itself became an issue.

As the weeks of survey-taking went by, I had another, more paralyzing thought: that this focus on my feelings was instilling a new kind of anxiety. Rather than just walking one of my kids home from school and contentedly listening to her chatter about sedimentary rocks, I was thinking about the survey’s infernal happiness toggle and where this experience ranked relative to the other moments I had tracked.

Grose’s point is that focusing on being happy is probably one of the worst ways to actually achieve happiness. Yet, as we all learn in grade school, our country was seemingly founded on the notion, because we all have the right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” And since Thomas Jefferson penned those words two-and-a-half centuries ago, our obsession with pursuing happiness has grown exponentially.

Apps like the one Grose used number in the thousands apparently. Countless books, courses, workshops, TED talks, diets, medications, websites, and YouTube videos all promise to lead us to happiness. And then there are the hope-filled experiences of visiting places like Disney’s Magic Kingdom, which claims to be “the happiest place on earth.”

One of the central tenets of all types of spirituality is that happiness is not found “out there” but discovered within us. As a result, many adopt mindfulness and meditation practices which are supposed to help us find that happiness, wherever it is hiding.

Yet, as Grose learned, studies have shown that such practices, along with others aimed at improving our sense of psychological wellbeing, are often ineffective. For those predisposed to mental health issues, learning such techniques sometimes leave them feeling even worse.

Most of the happiness optimizing programs and activities assume happiness is some “thing” we need to pursue, as Jefferson said. In our scientific age, we think we can quantify and measure it, whether in a laboratory experiment, population survey, or phone app. But Grose wisely concludes all this is barking up the wrong tree. Happiness is not something acquired but experienced, often mysteriously, in daily living.

The frenzied, overstuffed marketplace of happiness optimization will never be able to fix the fundamentals of the human condition or bring a lasting kind of purpose to a new generation. There will never be easy or straightforward answers to our most profound questions of existence, and ranking emotions feels like a diminution of their awesome power. I do not want to spend those daily walks home with my daughter wondering how they stack up against a morning run or dinner with a friend or any other moment in my day that might make me feel something. The user experience of being alive cannot be graphed.

One of the unfortunate misdirection plays of recent years has been the adoption of meditation as a technique for personal improvement, on par with exercise, dieting, or hiring a life coach. Meditation will raise your GPA and lower your blood pressure, improve your mental focus and your sex life, help you stay on task and propel you up the corporate ladder. Or so it’s claimed by one self-help guru or another.

Yet none of this has anything to do with the meditation that is at the heart of millennia of spiritual practice from around the world. While there is variation among spiritual traditions, they agree that meditation is not about acquiring or accomplishing anything. Rather, it is about a lifelong experience of seeing clearly and letting go.

A growing spiritual tradition today is nonduality, from the ancient Sanskrit word advaita, meaning “not two.” While originating in Hinduism, the belief in the unity of being can be found in almost all religious traditions, especially in their mystical expressions. Today nonduality is taught and practiced in both religious and nonreligious settings.

According to a nondual understanding, we lack nothing because our fundamental being is already complete. Suffering arises from blindness to this truth and our seeking satisfaction in what is impermanent, always changing, and ultimately disappearing.

Thus, nonduality says that happiness is, in fact, who we are. We are already happy by nature but this reality is obscured by experience. A couple years ago, our book discussion group read You Are the Happiness You Seek, by the English nondual spirituality teacher, Rupert Spira. According to Spira (and many others) there is no such thing as a “spiritual path” because there is no place to go. We’re already there! Meditation is the primary practice for this “pathless path,” as it is often called, as it facilitates our awakening to our true self, to our being as an expression of the one Self.

Our book group did get somewhat hung up on Spira’s use of the word “happy,” as often happens in discussions of this topic. While Jefferson seems to have meant the word holistically, today “being happy” is often understood more superficially, as in how we feel with a puppy in our lap or being at a Taylor Swift concert.

Broader terms like contentment or satisfaction probably come closer to the overarching experience we are seeking. But the best word is likely peace, which has a long usage in many of the world’s religions and spiritual traditions. Peace is more than an experience and is understood to be a state of being, or indeed, the nature of Being itself. Peace is a spiritual quality that transcends personal experience. We are unlikely to say that we are happy when we hit our thumb with a hammer, yet we could say that at the core of our being we are still at peace.

But whether you use the word happiness, peace, or something else is not the point. Rather, this is about the discovery of who we truly are and the completeness, the fullness of being, this is our nature. Our illusory separate self never genuinely acquires the peace and happiness it seeks. There is no such thing as “peace of mind.” The objects, experiences, relationships, accomplishments, status, etc. that we think make us happy all disappear over time.

What they do accomplish, however, is to briefly reveal, like the sun shining through a gap in the clouds on a stormy day, the happiness and peace that is already our true nature. When the clouds return, we think our happiness is gone when it is actually only obscured once again by experience. Awakening comes when we discover we are not our thoughts, feelings or experiences. Rather, we are the consciousness, or awareness, in which they occur, the Self which knows them but is unaffected by them.

For Spira, then, meditation is not an activity but rather the experience of Being and knowing of our Self.

Meditation is not an activity that you undertake in order to bring about a particular experience. The ‘I’ that you are is prior to the activity of meditation and cannot, therefore, depend on whether you are meditating or not. Meditation is to be knowingly the one you always and already are but may not have noticed due to your fascination with the drama of experience. Replace the word ‘meditation’ with ‘being knowingly your self’. Ramana Maharshi suggested that the highest form of meditation was simply to be…. Don’t make a distinction between everyday life and meditation.

The metaphor Jesus uses for peace and happiness is the Kingdom of God. His parables teach that finding it is often a surprise and in unexpected places. It also involves losing our supposed separate self to discover our true Self that is one with all. Yet it is available for everyone because the kingdom is all around us and within us, if only we have eyes to see and ears to hear. We don’t have to do anything to achieve happiness and peace because they are already closer to us than we are to ourselves.

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“Everything is change”

“Everything is change”

What follows was my last “Reflections” post for my congregation in Florida, so you may have read the earlier. It deals with the death of our dog, Emma, a week before Christmas. I am reprinting it here as a lead-in to the post that follows and which continues this theme.

Everything is change, and nothing at all can be held onto or possessed. This feeling of transience is at the root of the philosophy of poverty that exists in Buddhism. But in Buddhism one would not say so much poverty as one would say simplicity. Not going without, not clinging to things because it’s good for you, but because it is actually the happiest way to live. Because nothing is more terrifying than the state of chronic anxiety which one has if you are subject to the illusion that something or other in life could be held onto and safeguarded, and nothing can. So, the acceptance of everything flowing away is absolutely basic to freedom. – Alan Watts

Last week we suddenly lost our dear dog, Emma. She had been an integral part of our daily lives for over ten years, and then she was gone. We were emotionally devastated and disoriented.

In the kind responses I received, many spoke of similar experiences in their own lives. Often, they were surprised how long the sadness and disorientation lasted. The loss of a family member, close friend, pet, and even a cherished object can feel like a gut punch, a knife to our heart.

Such events are reminders of how much we live in mental worlds. We carry with us in our minds a map of reality, of normality. Those maps are getting slight adjustments all the time, but sometimes the change is much bigger. We turn the corner to a street we’ve been on dozens of times and are startled to see a vacant lot where we know a building “has always been.” Or we go back to our hometown or neighborhood after many years. “I hardly recognized it,” we say later, and still get a queasy feeling recalling the experience.

With people and pets the changes are harder because they involve behavior and emotional interaction. Whenever I pulled into the garage, Emma would start barking—but not anymore. At 4:30 in the afternoon, Emma would magically appear to stare at me. “It’s supper time, you know,” was the implied message. But not anymore. Routines involving spouses or parents are so embedded in us that it’s common to continue to see and hear someone long after they are gone.

“Everything is change, and nothing at all can be held onto or possessed,” Alan Watts bluntly states above. Watts was a modern-day prophet and understood well how difficult this truth is for us today. Science and technology have given us remarkable control over the world in which we live; so much so that we think of that as the norm. Of course, medicine will fix what’s wrong with me or my loved one. Of course, we will invent our way out of this problem or that.

It’s easy for us to forget Watt’s lesson which people have always known and what all religions have taught: everything is change. Ironically, it’s modern science that has made us even more aware of that truth. There are no “objects” but rather systems of forces, usually in balance but oftentimes not.

A “solid” rock is a constant interaction of atomic energy. Change may be slow but is always happening. Here in New Mexico, I walk in sand-bottomed arroyos at 7000 feet that once were on the ocean floor, millions of years ago. And the Hubble and Webb telescopes reveal an ever-changing universe billions of years old.

If change is so obvious and inevitable, why does it often upset us so much? The simple answer, I think, is love. We’ve all heard the lament about “looking for love in all the wrong places.” But our real problem is looking for love in too few places, for love is all around us.

In a recent video, spiritual teacher Rupert Spira says:

Love is simply one of the names we give to the to the unity of reality. When we experience love what we’re actually experiencing is the Oneness of reality. And even at the level of ordinary friendship, when we feel love what we are feeling is the collapse of the sense of separation, the collapse of distance. When you’re in love with someone, the distance or difference between you and the other collapses. You feel one with the other. It’s not just a feeling you’re having, you’re actually tasting reality. Reality is showing up in your experience and so love is just the unity of being.

In other words, love is the revelation that we are not separate beings but part of a greater whole. Love expands our awareness to recognize our connection with literally everything. But we experience that oneness in individual, changing forms: this community, this pet, this friend, this child, this spouse.

And that’s where the problem is: we mistakenly identify the love we experience with the form. Then we cling to the form, fearful that if the form changes or is lost, love is lost. But Love is eternal and ever-present. Which is why the Bible says simply, God is love. Spira continues:

Love is always love of the One. It’s the only love there is because love Is the absence of separation…. All love for anything is love of God, love of Unity, love of Oneness. But if we allow that love to become exclusively focused … we are really kind of violating a universal principle, and sooner or later the universe will make the correction. And it’s very painful when that happens.

Now, I think that pain and grief are inevitable. To be human is to be interconnected with the world around us. When some part of that world that we have an intimate connection with is lost, it feels like we have lost some part of ourselves, which we have. And that is going to hurt.

But our mistake is to believe that we have lost love or life itself. We haven’t. Our oneness, our unity with reality remains, only waiting to be experienced through love in some new form we haven’t yet found. God is always hiding in plain sight, waiting to surprise us in a new place, a new form, a new love.