What It Takes to Make Us Happy
The great 20th century teacher,
Nisargadatta Maharaj was once asked, “What is the secret to happiness?” Nisargadatta
replied, “It’s very simple: Want what you have and don’t want what you don’t
have!” Simple, did you say? Hmmm… Simple, but not easy. It
seems that most of us are rarely satisfied with what we have. We live in a
familiar state of "if-then/If-only" mind that goes something like, "If
I could only have this thing or that thing, then I would be happy."
We can waste a lifetime stuck in this kind of mind-trap.
Desire is often described in the
Buddhadharma as the cause of dukkha, which is often translated as
meaning “suffering.” However, there are nuances with this word from the Pali
language, because those old languages were full of nuance. Dukkha indicates
more of a sense of “dissatisfaction” or “unsatisfactoriness.” I’m dissatisfied
with my car because it’s getting old, and I want a newer model. We might not
characterize this as suffering in the way the word is normally used (e.g., the
suffering of Christ), but it’s still dukkha.
I also quibble with simply labeling
“desire” as the cause of suffering/dukkha. I prefer the definition that Ajahn
Sumedho gives that the cause is not merely desire, but “desire that gives rise
to a sense of self.” When any of the pronouns, such as “I” (subjective
pronoun), “me” (objective pronoun), or “mine” (possessive pronoun) appear in
the mind, there is probably some kind of desire taking place that created the
sense of there being someone who desires. “I want to be on vacation rather than
stuck in the office” is a good example of how a sense of self (I) arises due to
desire. “I don’t want this to be happening to me” is another. “Hey, buddy! This
freeway lane is mine” is a third. In all these cases, we want something to be
other than the way it is.
The sense of self – the "I, me, mine" phenomenon – raises the stakes when it comes to survival behaviors and the
activation of the sympathetic nervous system (SNS). If an uncomfortable
sensation occurs in the body (an itch is a good example), it begins as simply a
sensation, empty of any thoughts of self. The sensory signal gets sent to the
brain where a structure with a funny name – the precuneus. This is where the experience
of “I-ness” gets activated. “I have an itch” is the thought, or something like
it. Instantly, there is a self who is the subject of this physical event we
label as an itch. In other words, there is now an “I” who needs to be
protected.
Very rapidly, the neurons begin
chain-firing all the way through the brain and into an area called the default mode network (DMN). The DMN, in turn, is connected to lots of different areas
of the brain, including the ventromedial prefrontal cortex, which is
where a sense of a “biographical self” seems to be located. Now there is an object that is being affected by the itch – me. (“This itch is killing me!”) This
sense that there is not only a being labeled “I” now present, but also a “me”
with a whole life history that needs to be shielded from annihilation, raising
the survival stakes even further.
A sense of self has now fully arisen, and it just wants this itch to stop; to not be here. The fleeting thought occurs that “if only I could get rid of this itch, then I’d be happy” (note the multiple pronouns). So we reach up and reflexively scratch. Sure enough, the itch is gone, and we’re relieved. Nirvana! Soon, however, another experience begins rising over the event horizon of the body. A leg has fallen asleep! So the process of the pronouns begins again. Because all things are impermanent, the physical relief from the itch does not last, and another body event begins causing the sense of self to be activated and leading to more dukkha (wanting it to not be there). On the other side of the dharma coin, there could be a physical event that occurs that is pleasant (sukkha) and which we don't want to go away. Either way, it's dukkha, baby!
Dukkha also happens in daily life over bigger things, but all these dukkha events, great and small, share one desire in common: “If only I could make things change (or get fixed or go away), then I’d be happy.” There is a whimsical folk character in the Sufi tradition named Mullah Nasruddin (nahz-rah-DEEN). who is a combination holy man, philosopher, wise man, and fool. There are many humorous anecdotes that have been told about him over hundreds of years, and here is one that illustrates how the "if-then/if-only" mind works.
One day, Mullah Nasruddin was walking down a forest path, when he came upon a man sitting nearby who was sobbing. "What seems to be the problem?" asked the Mullah, who was always eager to help those in distress. "My house in the village burned to the ground last night, and all I could salvage from it were these few possessions," wailed the man, pointing to a knapsack sitting next to him.
Mullah Nasruddin considered the man's predicament for a moment, and then seized upon an idea. He quickly snatched the man's satchel, and ran off down the road with it, ignoring the pleas and curses from the traveler, who now gave chase behind him. The Mullah was fleet of foot, and soon the pursuer surrendered to the inevitable and quit running after him. When Nasruddin saw that the coast was clear, he carefully placed the man's possessions in the middle of the path, and then hid amongst the trees and bushes nearby.
In a short while, the recently unhoused refugee came trudging dejectedly down the path. "How could this have happened?" he lamented. "All I owned in the world has been taken from me!" Just then, he saw his knapsack sitting in the middle of the path where Mullah Nasruddin had placed it. His expression turned instantly from abject sorrow and grief to joy and ecstasy. The man rushed to the pack, opened it, and found that all his possessions were still there. His eyes were now filled with tears of happiness and gratitude as he thanked the Divine for returning his things to him safely.
From his observation post behind a tree, Mullah Nasruddin took all of this in, and then scratched his head and chuckled in amazement. "Humph" he grunted to himself. "It's funny what it takes to make some people happy!" (Shah, 1983)
In our meditation practices, we might be looking for something to happen; a desired result of some kind. In doing so, we are looking beyond the present moment, squinting our eyes to see into the distance trying to catch a glimpse of what we imagine we want to be here. It could be ideas of what “enlightenment” may be like, or samadhi, or stillness of the mind. While our attention is being drawn toward an imagined destination, we are missing what is happening right in front of us. When we imagine something like, “if I do everything correctly then I will be happy/enlightened/calm,” this is an opportunity to notice the arising of the sense of self (again, notice the pronouns) and the dissatisfaction that accompanies it. Then we can open the fist that is clinging to wanting something we don’t have and enjoy the moment we are having.
Shah, I. (1983). The
exploits of the incomparable Mulla Nasrudin. Octagon Press.
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