How Our Very Happiness is Colonized

In 1980, the average American CEO's income was 40 times higher than that of the average worker. Today, it is well over 300 times higher.

A new study suggests this rising income inequality in the United States doesn’t just affect Americans’ pocketbooks; it affects their happiness. Over the past four decades, according to the study, the American people have been the least happy in years when there was the widest gap between rich and poor.

The above quote is taken from an article in Yes! Magazine, a longtime favorite of mine. Clearly, it's pointing to the level of economic injustice here in the States, the negative impact of which is growing by the minute.

The Buddha routinely spoke of the three poisons: greed, hatred, and ignorance. And there's little doubt in my mind that the kinds of material disparities we are now seeing are evidence of those poisons in action. All of them.

Hatred, you might be saying? Well, I say yes. Hatred too. Hatred of other. Of community. Of what sharing with your neighbors actually means (that we're interdependent and need each on some basic levels). Hatred of poor people, coupled with a fear of becoming "one of them." The list goes on and on.

Our whole economic system is built upon the three poisons. Until enough of us realize this, and make a shift (individually and together) towards something more beneficial, the misery will keep piling up.

In fact, the very linking of our happiness to material wealth, or lack there of, is a symptom of the system. How our minds have been colonized. How the narratives of consumerism, global capitalism, and the "American Dream" own us to the core. The hundreds and even thousands of hours of absorbing advertisements, corporate-driven media news, and corroborating messages from family, friends, and co-workers has left many of our brains swamped in poisons, to the point where some folks can't distinguish themselves anymore.

Which makes lack of having your basic needs met - something more and more of us are facing these days - all the more difficult. Because our thinking is so warped, so self abusive and impairing.

You may have noticed a rise in popularity over the past decade or so of "zombie" narratives. Movies, novels, faux documentaries, songs - all with zombies at the center. There are many ways to read this phenomenon, but I believe one way to read it is to see how the zombies are, in many ways, forms of "us." An end point, if you will, of the colonization process spoken about in the last paragraph.

And if you think about it, Buddha's teachings - and all great spiritual teachings - have really been about decolonization. Breaking the stranglehold of whatever narratives hold sway for someone personally, as well as those narratives that hold sway over people collectively. Buddha's break with the caste system is an easy example of the latter.

On the flip side, there is also some truth to this linking of happiness (or contentment) with material position. Going without food, clothing shelter, decent health care, safe work conditions, any significant time off from work, and numerous other things. Frankly, it's challenging to locate happiness, joy, contentment, or equanimity within those conditions. And yet, definitely possible. Plenty of hermit monks and others have lived joyful and content with next to nothing.

As such, I fully believe that it's possible to both turn any situation into an opportunity to practice, to find peace and liberation - and, at the same time, to recognize that some conditions are flat out unjust, and worthy of being targets for transformation on a collective scale. In other words, bot total acceptance of what is and also doggedly working towards something better for us all.

Happiness as we commonly know it is colonized. It's not an individual pursuit, nor is it about accumulation of possessions, procuring a partner and having children, or transcending all the mundane difficulties of life. What is it? Let's work together to find out.

Happy Spirituality

Awhile back, I witnessed an interesting exchange between a male yoga teacher and two female yoga students. The teacher was expressing caution around women doing inversions while menstruating. He cited a long history of teachers agreeing on this point, waving his hands in the air, as if for extra emphasis. One woman raised her hand, and at the same time said, "Almost all of those teachers were men. How long have women been practicing yoga?" This was followed by another woman who basically disagreed with the teacher, citing potential health benefits and personal narratives of her students and friends.

There was some back and forth. At one point during the discussion, the first woman who spoke said, point blank, "I'm just expressing my disagreement with you, is that ok?"

After a few minutes of this, the teacher requested that they drop it and that we move on with the class.

It struck me that the teacher wasn't too comfortable with this kind of conflict. Perhaps he worried about loosing control of the class. I also think there was some sexism going on. Listening to a man insist that he knew better than the women in the room about their own bodies was pretty cringe worthy; I had a hard time looking at him the same after that. However, I think something else was at play here as well. Namely, doing whatever you can to maintain that harmonious, peaceful "yoga environment" that people have come to expect.

The way that discussion played out was a disappointment. Since the teacher insisted that he was essentially right on the matter, I seriously doubt the women who challenged him felt heard at all. And no doubt it impacted others in the room who hadn't spoken up, but perhaps were wondering about either that particular issue, or something else. In addition, the manner of shifting the class away from the conflict gave the impression that the discussion was mostly a distraction from the "real learning" that was supposed to be taking place. Finally, there was the effort immediately following the shift away from the conversation to return everyone to a calm and happy place, as if to override what had just happened.

Now, I feel some compassion for teachers that rush to shift uncomfortable dynamics. I have been there before myself, struggling to respond to something unexpected and volatile appearing in a class. I remember a time when I was teaching adult ESL when a particularly outspoken Muslim student starting putting down those of other spiritual/religious backgrounds. She even went as far as to chastise her fellow Muslim students, who mostly stood up for their classmates and for openness and sharing across differences. I found myself wondering how to stay loyal to my own desire for an active, participatory classroom, and yet also make sure that one or a handful of voices didn't dominate and alienate others. In some ways, this situation was an ESL teacher's dream. Over half the class actively using English to talk about their lives and share opinions. On the other hand, there was a distinct upset quality that lingered long after we had moved on to other things.

Although I did a fairly good job of facilitating space for different students to speak during that class, it was really the students themselves who chose to reach out to each other, and keep things respectful. Even with the woman who was berating them. In fact, our collective tolerance of her actually seemed to shift her views some. Towards the end of class, she was actually speaking positively about other students' beliefs and backgrounds, something I hadn't heard from her before.

At the end of the day, good teaching is always a bit risky. It requires a balance of maintaining your power as a teacher, and giving space to the students in the room to step into their own power. Even if that creates some conflicts along the way.

Interogating Happiness

In 1980, the average American CEO's income was 40 times higher than that of the average worker. Today, it is well over 300 times higher.

A new study suggests this rising income inequality in the United States doesn’t just affect Americans’ pocketbooks; it affects their happiness. Over the past four decades, according to the study, the American people have been the least happy in years when there was the widest gap between rich and poor.

The above quote is taken from a recent article in Yes! Magazine, a longtime favorite of mine. Clearly, it's pointing to the level of economic injustice here in the States, the negative impact of which is definitely growing almost by the minute. The Buddha routinely spoke of the three poisons: greed, hatred, and ignorance. And there's little doubt in my mind that the kinds of material disparities we are now seeing are evidence of those poisons in action. All of them.

Hatred, you might be saying? Well, I say yes. Hatred too. Hatred of community. Of what sharing with your neighbors actually means (that we're interdependent and need each on some basic levels). Hatred of poor people, coupled with a fear of becoming "one of them." The list goes on and on.

It's not hard for me to locate the three poisons in either the workings of our economic system, or the beliefs that help drive it. In fact, it's rather too easy. So, let's consider something else in relation to the quote above.

The very linking of one's happiness to material wealth, or lack there of, is at least in part, an acting out of the three poisons as well. Having had our minds colonized by the narratives of consumerism, global capitalism, and the "American Dream," most of us struggle to detach our well being from money, material possessions, and social status derived from job, money, and possessions. The hundreds and even thousands of hours of absorbing advertisements, corporate-driven media news, and corroborating messages from family, friends, and co-workers has left many of our brains swamped in poisons, to the point where some folks can't distinguish themselves anymore.

You may have noticed a rise in popularity over the past decade or so of "zombie" narratives. Movies, novels, faux documentaries, songs - all with zombies at the center. There are many ways to read this phenomenon, but I believe one way to read it is to see how the zombies are, in many ways, forms of "us." An end point, if you will, of the colonization process spoken about in the last paragraph.

And if you think about it, Buddha's teachings - and all great spiritual teachings - have really been about decolonization. Breaking the stranglehold of whatever narratives hold sway for someone personally, as well as those narratives that hold sway over people collectively. Buddha's break with the caste system is an easy example of the latter.

On the flip side, there is also some truth to this linking of happiness (or contentment) with material position. Going without food, clothing shelter, decent health care, safe work conditions, any significant time off from work, and numerous other things are clearly becoming more commonplace amongst Americans. And frankly, it's tough to locate happiness, joy, contentment, or equanimity within those conditions. I fully believe that it's possible to both turn any situation into an opportunity to practice, to find peace and liberation - and, at the same time, to recognize that some conditions are flat out unjust, and worthy of being targets for transformation on a collective scale. In other words, I can choose to place the palette of miserable emotions I might have around economic injustice at the center of my spiritual practice, and at the same time work towards an end of that injustice in whatever ways I (alone and with others) can. And in doing so, might be able to locate happiness, joy, and even liberation in the now, while also honoring the struggles that continue to plague the community, nation, and the world even.

*Image Corporate Wealth Games
by nocwg2010
http://www.flickr.com/photos/48202244@N06/4417197746

Romanticizing and Dis-ease

A few days ago, I wrote a post that mostly lamented the level of alienation present in our society, which is at least somewhat linked to how we are using new technologies. This interview digs into that theme even more. Here is the beginning of it:

Brooke Jarvis: When did you start thinking about the connection between economics and happiness?

Helena Norberg-Hodge: Thirty-five years ago, I had the great privilege of living and working in Ladakh, or Little Tibet. People there seemed happier than any people I had ever met. To me, this seemed to come from a self-esteem so high that it was almost as though the self wasn't an issue. Even among young people, there wasn't a need to show off, to act “cool.” I remember being impressed that a thirteen-year-old boy wouldn’t feel embarrassed to coo over a little baby or to hold hands with his grandmother.

But as Western-style development came to Ladakh, so did the message that the people there were primitive and backward. They were suddenly comparing themselves to romanticized, glamorized role models in the media—images of perfection and wealth that no one can compete with. You began to see young people using dangerous chemicals to lighten their skin. In Ladakh, there is now a suicide a month, mainly among young people. Not that long ago, suicide was basically unknown—there would have been one in a lifetime. That’s a really, really clear indicator that something is really wrong—and the dominant economic model is what had changed.

In countries around the world, in fact, there is an epidemic of depression and suicides and eating disorders. With this film, we’re trying to show that, when you look at the big picture, these social issues—as well as our environmental problems—are linked to an economic system that promotes endless consumerism. Fundamental to that system are trade policies that promote the expansion of giant multinational corporations.

I found these lines particularly interesting:

People there seemed happier than any people I had ever met. To me, this seemed to come from a self-esteem so high that it was almost as though the self wasn't an issue.

It's dangerous upon reading something like the account above to romanticize the past, and long for the simpler life that people like those in Ladakh possibly had. However, just as they can't go back to what was, neither can any of us. So, now what?

Our minds are really good at hyper-focusing on what we perceive to be negative. What seems wrong. What we don't like. Anything that causes dis-ease.

That's true on an individual level, but it's also true collectively. In my opinion, the vast majority of our global economy is built on the intertwining of our collective dis-ease. In addition, I'd argue that the hyper-focus on "the economy and economics" itself is a product of this. That the majority of humans spend much of their lives these days swirling around issues of money, "gainful" employment, material possessions, profits, and the rest points to how far down the dis-ease rabbit hole we have gone.

One of the main points of the interview cited above is that locally-driven economics is tied to greater levels of happiness. I think this is true, but let's move a little further.

Why are things like community gardens so popular? Because people literally become re-in touch with the earth, with their neighbors, with the food they grow. And in doing so, are back in touch with themselves. Sometimes to the point where the "self" is forgotten.

Sounds great, right? Well, this can be romanticized as well.

One of the reasons I think people in the "digital age" struggle both with the damage the consumer culture has done, but also with sustaining more healthy, vibrant alternatives to that culture is that really touching the earth, touching one's self means embodying it all.

With great joy often comes great fear riding in right after. And then all the games people play trying to avoid or act upon that fear.

The individual who took a risk by leaving their corporate job, downsizing their life, and disappearing for awhile to attend meditation and yoga retreats begins to see a new way of being, feels profound joy, and then is bombarded with fear - inside and out - and chooses to cut off the budding vision, or to only maintain that which is socially acceptable, at least to some degree.

The group that took a risk by abandoning the established models of approaching life's big and little questions, big and little issues, begins to embody a new way of being, which challenges the status quo, brings threats and other difficulties, and suddenly the mechanisms of power and control appear, steering the group in another direction, either out of deference to establishment or in defiance of it. And either way, something vital is lost.

It seems to me that whatever any of us end up doing, individually or as a group, in response to dis-ease - it absolutely has to be grounded in teaching ourselves and others to stop believing in romanticized stories about anything. And at the same time, to learn how to vision and imagine far beyond what we think we see in the world and in our own lives.

Sounds contradictory almost. However, I don't think so.

Even though I've never been suicidal, I'm not all that different from those young folks in Ladakh. Just as they have romanticized something being imported into their homeland, which itself is already romanticized, I'm given to longing for some place where life is simpler. Just as they have failed to look beyond what's being presented to them, and how they "don't have that," I often find myself languishing in the many manifestations of "dis-ease" around me, unable to imagine steps towards a more joyful, liberated life.

Like anything else, there's a duality at work that most of us fail to see. Simplicity and Complexity. Some of those youth in Ladakh are probably really drawn to the complexity of modern technology, business economics, and science. Some of us in the U.S. are really drawn to the simplicity of doing dishes mindfully, owning a lot less stuff, and Zen haiku. Both, however, are forgetting that it's all functioning together, that simplicity and complexity can't be fully separated. This is how romanticizing gets humans in trouble.

So, let's get real. And at the same time, imagine what isn't currently real, but might be in the future. Let's do it together. Even when it's difficult.

*Image: "National Romantic Painting" - Hans Gude, 1847

The Money was Nothing

Here's a news story that is really hard not to like, especially amongst all the rottenness and conflict we usually are served by the media.

A retired Canadian couple who won $11.3 million in the lottery in July have already given it (almost) all away.

"What you've never had, you never miss," 78-year-old Violet Large explained to a local reporter.

She was undergoing chemotherapy treatment for cancer when the couple realized they'd won the jackpot in July.

"That money that we won was nothing," her tearful husband, Allen, told Patricia Brooks Arenburg of the Nova Scotia Chronicle Herald. "We have each other."

The money was a "headache," they told the paper--mainly, it brought anxiety over the prospect that "crooked people" might take advantage of them. Several people called them out of the blue to ask for money when the news first broke that they'd won the jackpot. So they began an $11 million donation spree to get rid of it and help others, the Chronicle Herald reports:

They took care of family first and then began delivering donations to the two pages' worth of groups they had decided on, including the local fire department, churches, cemeteries, the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, hospitals in Truro and Halifax, where Violet underwent her cancer treatment, and organizations that fight cancer, Alzheimer's and diabetes. The list goes on and on.

Violet told the Canadian Press that they retained about 2 percent of the money for a rainy day.

"It made us feel good," Violet told the Chronicle Herald. "And there's so much good being done with that money."

There are so many interesting threads to consider in this story. First off, this couple given everyone the simple, but profound message that love and companionship are much more important than material wealth. I also have to say it's kind of wonderful that they chose to distribute the money all over, pointing to a sense of how their lives are interconnected with the community they live in, and the institutions that have benefited them in the past.

On a more macro-level, it's hard not to contrast the care Violet has received for cancer, with the ways in which such care is either out of reach, or financially devastating for many here in the United States. While our government will probably spend the next two years bickering over the details of the decidedly tepid, pro-private health care industry bill that was passed last year, everyday Canadians continue to have a hell of a lot more options, even if there are some problems with their system.

And finally, back to the couple, there's this statement "We're not travelers anyway. We live in the country and we're proud of it. Money can't buy you health or happiness." I think it's just fine to travel when you're older, and I hope to be able to do so myself. But it's also refreshing to hear someone say they are happy right where they are. Even if they decide to go on vacation with the little bit of money they saved, it's clear they are at peace with the place they live in. Such a different attitude from all the "snowbirds" who run south the moment there's a chill in the autumn air every year.

What's Happiness Anyway?

Over at Ox Herding, Barry is writing about happiness. My mother recently borrowed me the memoir of a founder of the online shoe company Zappos, Tony Hsieh, whose known for innovative ideas about how to build group culture (he also likes to make lots of money, but we'll leave that aside for now). The title of his memoir is Delivering Happiness. Sometime last year, I wrote something about the Dalai Lama's book, The Art of Happiness, and perhaps it was there that I questioned the notion that happiness is THE experience we all want, and strive for.

Hsieh's book is interesting for me because it's way outside of my normal reading box (a wide open, diverse one for sure), but certainly has never contained memoirs by rich guys talking about building companies. I've also been reading the blog of another quirky business dude, Seth Godin.

Now before a few of you start worrying, I don't intend to become a big time capitalist or anything like that. In fact, I'm getting some good practice in watching the critical mind come up with objection after objection as I read. However, one of my mottoes you might say, a simple teaching I like to share with others, is that "anything and everything can be a dharma gate." So, I'm digging into material right now I'd normally toss on the burn pile in order to see what's there.

Reading Hsieh's memoir, I'm finding that he's really not talking about happiness. What he seems to be talking about is connection to something larger than yourself, developing quality friendships, liberating your imagination, finding your passions and talents, and putting all that into building something with others together (in his case, companies). It's not quite dharma per se, but it certainly feels bigger and more interesting than the pursuit of happiness.

I guess I kind of wonder what it is we really want when we speak of happiness. Even though I can point to plenty of examples in my life when I experienced something I can label as "happiness," there's still something really vague about that word, and also about how most of us talk about it. What do you make of happiness?