The Authentic Life (7 page)

It's also a myth that we can't be happy if we get what we
don't
want, namely discomfort in any form. Yet as many who have suffered through serious difficulties have learned, it is possible to experience genuine equanimity even in the midst of prolonged discomfort. As long as we believe in these myths, and keep trying to attain happiness by controlling our behaviors—whether through trying to please others, trying harder to succeed, or seeking comfort and diversions—we will continue to trap ourselves in the up-and-down cycle of personal happiness and unhappiness.

G
ENUINE
H
APPINESS

There is another kind of happiness that goes beyond personal happiness. I've written extensively about it in my book
Beyond Happiness
(Shambhala Publications, 2010). Essentially, this is the deeper, more genuine experience of true contentment—of being fundamentally at ease with life as it is. The basic teaching underlying every religion and every spiritual path is that it's possible to experience this fundamental happiness, where we're no
longer attached to our demand that life be a particular way. But it's important to understand that this happiness has to come from within; it cannot depend on external life circumstances or on good emotional feelings.

In meditation practice, whenever we strive for special experiences to bring us happiness, we are caught in the grasping of the small mind, in the self-centered pursuit of wanting to feel a particular way. This is spiritual materialism, and it is guaranteed to undermine our more genuine quest to realize our true nature, which is ultimately the source of the deeper equanimity of genuine happiness. We may easily get sidetracked from this quest with promises or easy formulas to bring us happiness—even spiritual-sounding ones, such as seeking after enlightenment experiences. However, formulas for happiness give us only superficial fixes; they don't and can't go to the root.

In short, happiness doesn't come from making happiness the goal—it comes from being able to appreciate the journey, particularly the present-moment experience of our life. To “enjoy the ride” doesn't mean we're going to get somewhere, have a fun time, or get something—it means we're curious about what our life is, and willing to actually live our life as it is, and even appreciate it—including the most difficult, unpleasant, unwanted aspects of it.

In this sense, we can say that true happiness is more about being present, being awake, being open, than it is about being happy in the feel-good Hollywood sense of being merry and cheerful. Genuine happiness is not exhilaration; nor is it about being upbeat all the time. These may come and go, but genuine happiness at its core includes the willingness to acknowledge the painful aspects of life right alongside all the parts we normally deem as “good” or “happy.”

W
HAT
B
LOCKS
H
APPINESS
?

Instead of trying to stamp out our unwanted feelings and behaviors, the path to true happiness requires our openhearted attention to the exact things that seem to block our way to it—especially to the things we want to run away from, change, or get rid of. Thus, when we're feeling unhappy, rather than trying to generate happiness, we must try instead to see that
whatever
is on our plate is our opportunity, our path.

In other words, learning to live from genuine happiness requires first seeing what blocks it. One of the major blocks is our deep-rooted sense of entitlement. In fact, a big part of the “happiness problem” is that we firmly believe that we
should
be happy. We think it's our right and consequently we feel entitled to it. Our sense of entitlement tells us that life should go the way we want and expect it to go; it even tells us we shouldn't have to experience any discomfort. The result: When discomfort arises, we feel that something is wrong. Then we might get angry or feel it's unfair or feel sorry for ourselves.

Along with our sense of entitlement, we have many specific ideas and expectations about what will make us feel happy. “If only I had the right partner, I'd be happy.” “If only I had more money or a better job, I'd no longer be anxious.” “If only I had a better body, I'd be content.” “If only I had an enlightenment experience, then I would be at peace.” All of our “if onlies” are aspects of a basic unwillingness to actually be with the life that we have at the moment. Instead, we choose to live in hopeful fantasies about the future. This is certainly understandable, in that we'd rather picture a different and better reality than be with what life actually presents. Yet where does this leave us? It leaves us living a life that is neither real nor satisfying.

Another major block to genuine happiness is being caught in the thinking mind—lamenting about the past or worrying about the future. Living in our heads, we nurture the small mind of self-centeredness—the ground of all our judgments, fears, and limiting beliefs—and it literally guarantees our unhappiness. This keeps us caught in our emotions, particularly anger, fear, and despair, which cut us off from living from our true openhearted nature. Anger, for example, is rooted in aversion to life, and it separates us from others.

Paradoxically, even though these separating emotions are a prescription for unhappiness, we often don't want to give them up. In our misguided quest for personal happiness (in contrast to deeper or more genuine happiness), we believe that these emotions will somehow serve us. For example, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, we continue to believe that anger will help protect us and empower us in getting what we want. We also love being right, because we like the juiciness and the false sense of power that accompanies our self-righteousness. Unfortunately, we would often rather feel right than be happy. But like all of the disconnecting emotions, this leaves us with the unsatisfying feeling of being separate—which guarantees unhappiness.

Interestingly, even if we are not caught in our emotions or not feeling particularly unhappy, we may still not experience genuine happiness. In other words, we can be gliding along through life with good health, a decent job, and satisfactory relationships, but still be far from experiencing the deeper sense of equanimity and appreciation that are the result of living more authentically. When we're caught up in the complacency of our routines, living our life on autopilot, we may be somewhat buffered from being actively unhappy. Yet we're still skating on thin
ice. Sooner or later, however, the anxious quiver in our being will come to the surface, and we may feel the ache of the emptiness of our pursuits or the nagging feeling that something is missing.

W
HY
W
E
S
TAY
S
TUCK

The real question we need to ask ourselves is, “Why do we continue to follow behaviors that don't bring us real happiness?” The answer lies in the basic human condition: We are born with the survival instinct for safety, security, and control; we are also born with an aversion to discomfort and a natural desire for comfort and pleasure. These basic human predispositions are bound to dictate our behaviors, as we can clearly see by looking at two-year-olds. Although there's nothing wrong with trying to be safe or comfortable, the problem is one of priorities: when our survival mode is prioritized, our other natural urges—curiosity, appreciation, and living from our true openhearted nature—are pushed aside. Consequently, we live increasingly from our small self, believing that our survival-based behavior strategies of trying harder or people-pleasing will make us happy. Yet ironically, these very behaviors, along with our many addictive behaviors, starting with our addictions to pleasure and diversions, often bring us the most dissatisfaction.

In themselves, pleasure and diversions are fine, and they can certainly make us feel good. But pursuing our addictive behaviors is the very essence of the human tendency to misunderstand happiness. We follow these seductive behaviors because they seem to promise us happiness. And to some degree, they fulfill their promise in that we feel happy when we experience sensual pleasure or the hit of endorphins. But the fulfillment of that
promise is always temporary, and it is always based on a temporarily benevolent external environment. As long as the environment doesn't turn against us, we think our life is okay, and we don't do anything to change the situation. Nor do we address the underlying unease out of which the addictive behaviors arise. After all, why upset the applecart when things seem to be okay? We may glide along, feeling good for a time, but because we haven't addressed that hole of neediness inside, we will feel the compulsion to cover it over with pleasure or diversions again and again. Thus, we remain on the treadmill of personal happiness/unhappiness. When we don't feel so good, we find a fix, and feel temporarily happy. As the cycle goes on and on, the genuine happiness of living authentically eludes us.

Wherever we find ourselves stuck, whether it's in our entitlements, if-onlies, emotions, or addictive behaviors—if we aspire to live authentically, we have to look honestly at how we're avoiding reality, how we let our life slip by while ignoring the things we know we will eventually have to face. Living authentically requires that we be present with our life exactly as it is. We can ask ourselves the question, “What is this?” and use this question to focus like a laser on our present-moment experience. This is the
only
place we can practice: in exactly what we are experiencing right now. The courage to be honest with ourselves and to not turn away is well worth the effort. Resting in the physical experience of the present moment, including the places where we're most stuck, the apparent solidity of those stuck places gradually becomes more and more porous.

T
HE
G
ENEROSITY
OF THE
H
EART

Along with the continuing effort to be present, working with what gets in the way of genuine happiness eventually uncovers
one of its major roots: living mainly to get something for ourselves. The alternative is to give from the natural generosity of the heart. When we truly offer ourselves to someone in need—whether they are hurting or deprived in some way—we experience the gratitude of living from the awakened heart, and we feel the fulfillment of acting from a sense of our basic connectedness.

Paradoxically, even though we know we are happier when we do these things, research shows that when we're given the choice between doing something self-serving and doing something altruistic, more often than not we will choose the self-centered alternative. Sadly, as this research shows, we often don't do what makes us genuinely happy. We may have to be repeatedly disappointed by living a self-centered life before our desire for the happiness of others is awakened. But once it is awakened, living from this natural generosity allows us to move from our small mind of separateness to cultivating this essential root of true contentment.

There are many different ways to give. We can volunteer or give through social action, and we can certainly learn to give in small ways throughout the day. For example, giving can be as simple as letting someone get in front of you in line or doing the dishes because you see that your partner or roommate is tired. Or perhaps it might involve really listening to a friend who is hurting and in need of connection. In short, one of the real keys to living most genuinely is to give oneself to others, without personal agendas. When we're truly generous, we give to others without ulterior motives or a sense of self-importance. In other words, we're not drawing attention to ourselves, and our giving isn't just another way of propping up our self-image or a way of trying to get appreciation. Nor are we motivated by the idea that we
should
be more giving.

If we reflect on what it means to give from the natural generosity of the heart, at some point it becomes clear that giving may first mean
giving up:
giving up our strong identification with being only our small, separate self. This is the self of judgments and fears, the self that holds back from the natural inclination to give, either through laziness or a sense of entitlement or self-doubt. As our identification with our small self recedes and we become increasingly present, we gradually discover who we truly are—our natural being of connectedness and love.

We can then understand that the purpose of human life is not to be happy, although we certainly all want that. The purpose of human life is to awaken to our true self. The more we are in touch with our true self, the closer we are to living from genuine happiness. Although there is no “secret” to living a genuinely happy life, the deepest happiness of equanimity and connectedness grows with our ability to stay present with life as it is. And this flowers as we water the roots of the generosity of the heart—including our inherent capacity for gratitude, loving-kindness, and compassion. This is how we learn to live from the connectedness that we are. This is also the essence of what it means to live the authentic life.

7

No One Special to Be

O
ne of the main characteristics of a life of sleep is that we are totally identified with being a “Me.” Starting with our name, our history, our self-images and identities, we use each one of these things to solidify the sense that we are living in our little subjective sphere. We experience ourselves as “special”—not in the normal sense of being distinguished or exceptional, but in the sense that we feel unique and subtly significant. Interestingly, our feeling of specialness is not just from having positive qualities; we can even use our suffering to make us feel unique and special. Yet not
needing
to be special, not needing to be
any
particular way, is what it means to be free—free to experience our natural being, our most authentic self.

For example, we all have images of ourselves that we unconsciously carry with us throughout our waking hours. Our self-images are the conceptions or pictures of how we see ourselves. We can have the self-image of being nice, or competent, or deep; or we could have a negative self-image—seeing ourselves as weak, or stupid, or worthless. Usually we try to focus on our
positive self-images, and we often try to shape our external life to portray ourselves in the most favorable way. We live out of the vanity of trying to look a particular way, mostly to gain the approval of those whose opinion is most important to us. Whether it's our clothes, our hair, our body—our radar for approval is constantly running, mostly unconsciously. This is true even with the car we drive; whether it's a Cadillac or a hybrid or a pick-up truck, when we sit behind the wheel, it defines who we are to ourselves and to others, and we are usually totally identified with that image.