The Pursuit of Happiness

Mont St Michele

On a Thursday, as I have told you in an earlier post, I meet my friends. Depending on the weather we walk and then visit the local fishmonger, then relax in each others company, have a chat and an ale. It is a great afternoon, we never seem to run out of conversation, and I always leave feeling happy. It is a simple afternoon and it generates its own happiness. 

I was thinking of this after over-hearing a number of conversations. The first was a mother. She was bemoaning that as hard as she tried she could not longer bring back the happy times they all used to share together. “No matter what I organize it is always the same,” she said. “They always have things to do and places to go.” 

Hankering after the old days she is missing the joy and happiness of watching them become free beings in their own right. 

The second conversation was a friend complaining that he need a new mobile phone. “Why? “ I asked. “This one is out of date. I hope the next one lasts longer.” The phone he had was at least a year younger than mine, but he had to be up date with all the latest gizmos. 

In reality, both of these conversations were about the same thing. Let me explain what I mean.

If we have a scooter we want a cycle, if we have a cycle we want a car. If we have a car we want a bigger or better one. The list is endless. And so is the pursuit.

I remember workmate who, the minute they got promotion began talking about the next step up the ladder. Or when they had been given a pay hike it was not bringing him any closer who his friend who had also had one. Again the list is endless as is the pursuit.

Even on the emotional and relationships front, our relationships are evaluated on the basis of how many visits, how many phone calls, how many invitations one gets and gives. We seek to create a perfect family of always smiling people around us, and are disappointed if things are not picture perfect. Yet again, the list is endless.
And so is the pursuit.

The pursuit of happiness. This is a well-known and well used phrase. Yet it is in fact a strange term. It in fact makes no sense at all. 

Like many oft-repeated phrases, one repeats it mechanically but it makes no sense whatsoever.

Happiness is not an object or person that can be pursued. It just is.

In fact, perhaps it is this very phrase that is often the seed of much discontent and unhappiness.

The new phone, car, are all part of the pursuit of happiness. 

As I ran this morning I was thinking about these conversations and my own pursuit of happiness, and the next better artwork.  As I reached the 6 mile mark it all seemed to fall into place.

When you pursue happiness, it eludes you. However, when you recognise that happiness is the inner beings natural state, all you need to do is eliminate all that comes between your happiness and you.

I think I need to read that again and again in the next few days. Is it complex or complicated? Not really. 

Todays artwork is the finished Pen and Ink of Mont St Michele. I did take a picture of a stage between the first one and this one but decided just to share the finished work. I wondered long and hard about adding the colour. Too late now to change my mind. 

I have some very fond memories of this place and the visits I made here with family and friends. 

Sadly like so many places the little streets leading up to the magnificent cathedral at the top are full of little shops all selling the same things. 

What next? I think maybe back to a canvas. 

Look

I was remembering some of the events in life that made me laugh the simple little things that meant much to me and something else to others. One such incident was when my son began to learn reading and writing. The first word he learned was the word, “Look”. This word began appearing on every bit of spare paper. Then one Sunday morning I arrived home from conducting an early morning service at the prison. As I drove up the drive towards the church there on the front of the wall in large very visible letters were two words, emblazoned in chalk, “Look, God.”

He had been at it again, showing off his writing skills. Some of the members of the congregation were more concerned about how the words were to be removed than thinking about what my son was maybe trying to tell them. I acted all serious but inwardly I had to smile.

Some weeks later my study was being decorated. New wallpaper was being hung to brighten the place up. When I arrived home from some visits I was met at the door by my daughter. “Dad you are not going to like what Ross has done now.” When I asked what he had been up to she informed me he had written on the study wallpaper. No, I was not going to like what he had done now. In anger I stormed up the stairs to the study. I opened the door. True enough the walls were written on in crayon. The words read, “I love my dad.”

The words were still there on the wall when I left that church to move to another parish. Every time I sat down to prepare for a meeting or to prepare myself for conducting Sunday worship I saw them. They were words that touched my inner being like few words could.

It is wonderful when somebody whom you hold dear takes the time to let you know that you also hold a special place in their life.

I often wonder if I do it often enough.

This blog is linked to my other. Friends At Heart

Just Before You Tell Me.

There is always something nice about a little story .We all love a little story, and if it is about somebody else then that is even better. There are always some people who just love to tell you little stories they heard, and thought you might like to know. Yes my blog is called partly, the barstool philosopher so I could so easily be one of those very people.

I do tell lots of little stories, because I love to hear them. I hope though that my little stories are seen for what they are. They are stories to inspire us to think a bit more . To maybe even make us turn to action.

Yesterday I was walking home deep in thought, putting one foot in front of the other. The next thing I knew a “friend “ was walking next to me and speaking to me. I laughed and apologised I had not heard him coming up at the back of me. We walked together and passed the time of day. At first we were only talking about gardens and vegetables, things we have in common. Then he said to me, “Have you heard about,” and he mentioned a name. I knew immediately he was about to tell me a little story. It was a little story about a friend of mine and yes I had heard it before. What is more I knew the little story was not true, and that it was wrong to repeat it and just as bad of me to consider listening to it again. So instead I told him of Socrates. Yes I do that, not just on blogs do I tell my little stories.

I am sure some of you have heard of Socrates, and some of you may even have heard this little tale.

In ancient Greece, Socrates was reputed to hold knowledge in high esteem. One day an acquaintance met the great philosopher and said, “Do you know what I just heard about your friend?”

“Hold on a minute,” Socrates replied. “Before telling me anything I’d like you to pass a little test. It’s called the Triple Filter Test.”

“Triple filter?”

“That’s right,” Socrates continued. “Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be a good idea to take a moment and filter what you’re going to say. That’s why I call it the triple filter test.

The first filter is Truth.

Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?”

“No,” the man said, “Actually I just heard about it and ...”

“All right,” said Socrates. “So you don’t really know if it’s true or not.

Now let’s try the second filter, the filter of Goodness.

Is what you are about to tell me about my friend something good?”

“No, on the contrary…”

“So,” Socrates continued, “you want to tell me something bad about him, but you’re not certain it’s true.

You may still pass the test though, because there’s one filter left: the filter of Usefulness.

Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be useful to me?”

“No, not really …”

“Well,” concluded Socrates, “if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor even useful, why tell it to me at all?”

Strangely enough after I told him that little story he went back to talking about his garden. We enjoyed the rest of the walk up the road.

So I give you the triple filter test. It may or it may not be useful.

Now having said that  I have never heard anything bad said on blogging about others. In fact it is a world full of good words. I just wish today though I could get past the words and find a way to help a fellow blogger in need. Then blogging would have taken me beyond words.


This blog is linked to my other.Words

What Was That You Said?

I have nothing to say and I am only going to say it once. Yes I actually heard somebody saying that yesterday. How often can you say nothing. I was not part of the conversation it was a moment snatched that I overheard. It did make me consider though just how many words it takes to say nothing.
I used to tell my students to always remember that if they looked in the mirror, something most of them were not averse to doing, they would notice that there were some things they all had in common. For example, they all had two ears, one nose and one mouth. My son having only one eye makes me very aware of how far one can take this. They would all agree, often of course with some comment about being glad they did not have somebody else’s nose. I then went on to tell them that having one mouth and two ears, they should use them in that proportion. We should do twice as much listening as speaking.

I walked up the road yesterday just as the schools were coming out for the end of the day, and the start of the weekend. I often marvel at how young people communicate at all. They just all talk at once, liberally scattered with words I do not know, and words I would chose not to use.

I remember being told this wonderful phrase. "Say what you mean, mean what you say, and don't be mean when you say it." I really must be getting old. I love words and the power they have to bring joy and healing. But sadly, I believe we are losing the wonderful art of communication. Technology is making conversations one sided, and the art of listening is dying.

Have you ever considered that the two words, SILENT and LISTEN, use the same letters. Now tell me the is a coincidence!

A young son and his father were walking in the mountains. The father said, “Why don’t you yell and see if anyone is out there?”

So the little boy yelled, “Helllooooooo.

To his surprise, he hears a voice answering, “Helllooooooo.



Curious, he yells back, "Who are you?"

He receives the answer: "Who are you?"



Angered at the response, he screams: "You’re an idiot!"

He hears the reply: "You’re an idiot!"



He looks to his father and asks, "What's going on?"

The father explained that he’s hearing an echo, and whatever he says will be repeated back to him. Then the dad yelled into the valley, “I think you’re great!”

The voice answers, “I think you’re great!”



The father turned to his son and explained: "The way you talk to others is a lot like this echo. If you’re angry and yell at them, they will yell back. But if you will say nice things to them, they will respond in the same way to you.”



I leave you this morning with a couple of little sayings I learned from my grandmother. I do not know where she learned them because I never took the time to ask. She used to say to me, "Two monologues don't make a dialogue."

And my final word, “Never miss the opportunity to keep your mouth shut.”

I hope you have a wonderful day and weekend.

You did not think for one minute I was going to stop with my final word, did you?

This blog is linked to my other. Be Still

If I Give You

I will get back to that title I promise you. Yesterday I spent some quality time with my daughter at the Edinburgh Book Festival. We do this every year at this time, we select a few authors we would like to go and listen to, then decide how we will fill the rest of the day around it. Yesterday we were going to listen to only one author, so we also visited the National Art Gallery together. Between the two we had a nice ale and a meal.


While we were sitting together enjoying the food and the ale we were also trying to discuss the exhibition we had attended. The trouble was I could not concentrate. Sitting at the table behind me were three young ladies in full flight of conversation. They were speaking loudly so it was almost impossible to ignore them. There is nothing worse than hearing every word of a conversation and not understanding a thing said. No, they were not visitors from overseas, but they could have been for all I understood.

Let me explain by sharing a quick little story.

A teacher was walking along a corridor of the school and noticed a student walking towards her. She knew this pupil should be in a class and that the girl was renowned for skipping classes. She asked her, “What class are you skipping this time?”

The student replied, “Like, uh, see, okay, like it's like I really don't like think like that's really important, y'know, like because I'm y'know, like I don't get anything out of it."

"It is the English class, isn't it?" replied the teacher.

The dying art of communication! But it is not always one way. Sometimes we older people assume what we say is straightforward.

A teacher said to a young student called Patrick, “If I give you two rabbits, then give you another two, and then another two. How many rabbits do you have?”

“Seven,” says Patrick.

“Let’s try that again.” says the teacher. “If I give you two rabbits, then give you another two, and then another two. How many rabbits do you have?”

“Seven,” says Patrick.

“Let me try something else,” says the teacher. “If I give you two apples, then give you another two, and then another two. How many apples do you have?”

“SIX,” says Patrick loudly.

“Good, “says the teacher. Now let us try again. “If I give you two rabbits, then give you another two, and then another two. How many rabbits do you have?”

“SEVEN,” says Patrick.

“How on earth do you work that out, that three lots of two rabbits equal seven? asked the frustrated teacher.

“Well then,” says Patrick, “Ill already be having a rabbit at home.”

The speaker at the book festival was a marvellous communicator but I will not be telling many of his tales on this blog.

May the word go with you today.

This blog is linked to my other where I discuss the artwork used. The Meeting

Saying not Doing

I read the blog of Angel Star two days ago where she was telling of being on the edge of the earthquake that rocked Mexico and how she felt the tremor. She said that even although it was short and small there was enough time to be afraid.


This reminded me of the tale of the earthquake in the Zen monastery. Parts of the building were actually destroyed and many of the monks admitted to being terrified. The master after it was all over stood before the monks and addressed them. “Now you have had an opportunity to see how the Zen master reacts in a crisis. You will have noticed how I brought you all to the centre of the building, to the kitchen, the strongest part of the monastery. You will also notice that I stayed calm but that I took a large glass of water something I am not in the habit of doing. But that was alright in such a situation.”

One of the monks nodded but had a smile that covered his face. “Why do you smile so at me?” asked the master. The monk responded, “You did indeed lead us to safety but that was not a large glass of water you drank master. It was a large glass of Soya.”

We are indeed measured not by what we say but what we do.

There was a man who lived next door to a lady who professed to be a very devout Buddhist. Three times a day she recited the names of the Buddha as a mantra and the top of her voice. Yet even after such daily ritual she was a lady prone to much anger. Her neighbour decided that one day he would show her. Just as she was about to start he ritual he knocked on her door and called her name. He kept on knocking and calling her name. Eventually she came banging to the door and in an angry voice said, “Why do you treat me like this I am doing my practice calling on my Buddha and you are here calling my name?” The neighbour said I have only called your name ten times and you feel angry. I wonder how the Buddha feels after you calling his three times a day for ten years.”

By their actions and their practices shall you know them. I am privileged to see many artists who make no claims to greatness but who work speaks volumes to my heart. It is perfectly acceptable to feel fear as we prepare to be creative because it is what we achieve that will speak not our words. I am sure some reading this will remember the words, “Why do they call me Lord, Lord but do not do what I say?”



This blog is linked to my other found at:- Thoughts of Summer