On Mon, 2013-03-11 at 09:40 +0530, Udhay Shankar N wrote: > Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in > the potter’s oven? > > I read that to mean that to truly experience happiness, you must > experience deep sorrow. Which to me, means that you can’t be happy all > the time. It’s not possible and it’s not even desirable. > > Take pleasure in the little things and stop looking for the > “HAPPINESS,” > all-caps. Be happy with “happy,” lowercase. And understand that > sadness > (or in my case, a messy house, or on a whole different scale, the > recent > death of my mother) is what makes knowing happiness possible.
For decades I have insisted that happiness is inside the head, between one's ears. Over 20 years ago when I used to live in the UK I found Indians who had achieved their dream of leading a wealthy life abroad lamenting that they wanted to go back to India. There were whiny and unhappy. I was planning on going back to India anyway, but did not want to regret that I did not try something that I could have done. I had decided against the US simply because I had medical qualifications from India and the UK and had no intention of requalifying in the US at an age when I could be teaching my "teachers" something. I decided to check out Canada. For me the "checking out" route meant buying a practice and what was available was a practice in the town of Wadena (pop 1000), Saskatchewan.I visited Bangalore briefly before going to Canada. In Bangalore I happened to meet the mother of a young man living in Saskatoon who instantly (and very kindly) arranged for me to use his home as base while I checked out Wadena, 60 odd miles away. She spoke glowingly of her son and his wife. They had double of everything. Two cars. Two TVs. Two whatnots. Four bathrooms. This was 1989. In February 1989 I flew out to Toronto and thence to Saskatoon. I flew Wardair that served their food in Wedgwood crockery, and went out of business in a year or so. The temperature in Saskatoon was -20 centigrade. My breath was freezing on my moustache. People who parked cars at the airport did not turn off their engines. Cheap oil. The couple I stayed with were very warm and hospitable. But they lamented that they wanted to be back in India. Look outside they said. 5 feet of snow. Wadena had two hotels. One was called Hotel Motel where I got a room and spent a night. The mayor who had heard that a doctor was visiting came up in the morning and had breakfast with me. He was very friendly and genuinely welcoming. He drove me around that little town in his pick up truck. I asked him what there was to do in town, and he told me that I could go moose hunting on his estate and indicated that there were snow scooters I could use. I had visions of telling my wife to pick up the rifle and go moose hunting because I was held up at the clinic and that I would join her later. Canada was not the place for me. I returned to India the next year. People in India were amazed that I was idiot enough to return to India after having "made it" in the west. I told them that I had been living in the north of England and had suffered a nervous breakdown. The previous summer I had seen a bright light in the sky that scared me witless leading to the breakdown. When I recovered people told me that the light was actually the sun. I had not seen the sun for 2 years in the north of England and had forgotten about it. Scary innit? Happiness is in one's head. There is a digitized 8 mm home movie of me as a 4 year old child carrying a toy gun. I still love shooting. There is something compellingly satisfying about pulling a little lever attached to a pipe in front of you and seeing a Coke can explode dozens of yards away. I have received warning letters from the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Tin cans. But what do I care? Happiness is doing things that you feel like doing. Things that relax you and keep your mind empty like that recently perforated Coke can. shiv
