Happiness - A guide to developing life's most important skill

By Matthieu Ricard

I found this book prominently displayed in my local library's new book section. I wasn't specifically looking for a book on happiness at that moment in time, although to be honest it is something that I, subconsciously at least, look for all the time. Actually I've 'read' a few pop psychology self help books, including 'How to Win Friends and Influence People,' which just says shit like say hello to people and remember their birthdays. Well I tried shit like that, and it doesn't work, so obviously resistant cases like me need an alternative approach.
I had no idea what this book was going to give me, and to my absolute surprise, I found myself reading it, all the way, front to back. When I initially found out it was written by a Buddhist monk living in Tibet with the above detailed poncey French name, I wavered slightly, thinking oh god, it's not going to be a load of simpering religious rhetorical crap is it? But... it really wasn't. Being Chinese, Buddhism has always been in my background, although I have up to now been quite resistant to the idea of belonging to any particular religion. I have on occasion been to church with some of my bible bashing friends, and often found the whole experience cringe making.
Ricard doesn't preach Buddhism, but uses Buddhist principles and ideologies to try to make you look at Life differently. From my interpretation, the main theory this book - and indeed Buddhism, tries to impress on us is basically realisation that nothing in Life really matters, apart from being loving and compassionate to all sentient beings. Yeah, I know, what the hell's a sentient being? I had to look it up. And that all the sources of our unhappiness stems from delusional thinking, such as what people think about us and how they treat us matters. Obviously he puts it in a much more detailed and spiritual way, I absolutely loved it, reading the book was like taking my mind to the beach.
Another thing I liked was that Ricard talked through specific techniques we could use to neutralise specific negative emotions, such as anger and envy. Another way of becoming happier is by letting go of your pride, he says, which struck me as sounding very Christian. So what if someone says something or does something to you that hurts your pride? Does it really matter? If you let go of your pride then it won't hurt, and etc.
He didn't go into Buddhism as a religion, there was no preaching, but I was quite moved by the way he kept emphasising the love and compassion. He even talks about meditating on compassion. I had never thought of Buddhism in this way before, only pictured it as bizarre chanting and meaningless meditation, self denial and self discipline. He says meditation is a way of calming your mind and quietening down all unhappy thought of niggling self doubts which are after all only delusions. The theory is the more you do it, the easier it will become, and eventually you'll be free from delusion and be truly happy.

I loved it, I loved the principle, I loved the theory, I loved the gratuitous use of the words 'delusion' and 'sentient beings', it reminded me of Star Trek, no wonder Scientology is so popular. All joking aside, it was spiritual, thought provoking, compassionate and probably most importantly, really well written. After having read it I have taken on board a lot of what he's said; even though I have a long way to go myself in developing my Happiness Skills, Ricard's book definitely made me think about things and look at life differently, which a book hasn't done to me in a long time.

Bad Dirt (Wyoming Stories 2)

by Annie Proulx

I came across this book via the London Art Club's Book Club. It was not the most inviting book title, but to my surprise found it available from Edgware library, and thought I'd throw all caution to the wind and give it a go. To my alternate surprise, when I went to look for it on the library's book shelves, I found out that Annie Proulx wrote The Shipping News. Now, The Shipping News is really not something you would have heard of unless you're a Kevin Spacey fan, which is what I am; I have a curious and unhealthy obsession with him. Or had, rather, it has waned somewhat after having seen him in A Moon for the Misbegotten which was showing at the Old Vic in London. I have to admit I'm not usually very good at theatre, even though I try, but this play turned out to be the dullest load of waffle I'd paid £20 to see. But digression aside, The Shipping News was also slow, but kind of grows on you, brought to you by the same man who directed Chocolat. So with this link I was willing to give Bad Dirt a tackle, despite its dubious title.
It is actually short stories, and all set in Wyoming, which I had never given a thought to before ever, even when I was little and in an American school in HK and had to learn all the capitals to all the US states. I'm not especially a fan of short stories, I kind of like my books to have meat and depth that you can dive into. Reading a short story always leaves me feeling slightly unsettled, dangling and looking around bemused, like where's the rest of the story dude? Because I was reading this for a book club, there was the whole one story down, six more to go mind set behind my reading, which I think helped. Some of the stories I couldn't help thinking thank goodness this is only short, some mercifully so, but some of them were OK too... just. As I was eating my way through the book, I find myself comparing reading short stories to eating different chocolates from a box selection. Some are good, some not so, but all small, brief and bitesized little joys to experience. Out of all the stories in it, I really only enjoyed one of them, a story about a rusty old magical kettle. It was the only one that started and ended well, and felt right short. But the running theme through all of them was the Wyoming setting, open plain country, vivid, raw, and emotive descriptions of which I did think was quite lovely. Maybe I'll go there one day; Yosemite's there, so it's a real possibility.
After all that dedicated reading, I never went to the book club meeting about it; but it was a nice little diversion from my usual reading fare, even if it is the sort of thing old grannies might read.