Our tendency to conflate
geography and happiness seems to be more deeply embedded in our thinking and
even our language than we realize. We speak about “looking for” happiness and
“finding” joy as though these were specific locations on an actual map. Until
the 18th century, people even believed the Garden of Eden, the biblical notion
of paradise, was a real place, so they depicted in on maps — located, as Weiner
notes the irony, at the intersection of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers where
modern-day Iraq lies. At the same time, the entire self-help industry is built
— and billed — on the premise that happiness is inside us and we simply need to
dig it out. But, Weiner argues, both of these notions are wrong — the line
between “out there” and “in here” is much finer than we’ve been led to believe
and, as he puts it, where we are is vital to who we are.
The journey wavers across
ten countries: The Netherlands, Switzerland, Bhutan, Qatar, Iceland, Moldova,
Thailand, Great Britain, India and the United States: to uncover the greatest
enablers of, as well as obstacles to, happiness, examining in the process a
wide spectrum of definitions of what happiness actually is, from Aristotle to
Weiner’s personal favorite, by an unhappy man named Noah Webster who penned the
first American dictionary.
In Bhutan, Weiner contemplates their Gross National
Happiness as an alternative to GDP as a measure of a nation’s well-being. In
The Netherlands, he tracks down Ruut Veenhoven, the godfather of happiness
research and proprietor of the World Database of Happiness.
Throughout the narrative,
intriguing factoids add delight to journey, and some perplexing paradoxes begin
to emerge — the world’s happiest countries also have high suicide rates; people
who attend religious services report being happier than those who don’t, but
the world’s happiest nations are secular; countries with a wide gap between
rich and poor are no less happy than countries with even wealth
distribution. The Geography of Bliss is neither a self-help manual nor a pop-psychology
book. Instead, its ultimate quest for the objective elements of happiness is,
ironically yet intriguingly, just one man’s subjective interpretation of the
conditions and complexities of well-being. And, like happiness itself, the
book’s beauty lies in the layered insights of its subjectivity.
Our tendency to conflate
geography and happiness seems to be more deeply embedded in our thinking and
even our language than we realize. We speak about “looking for” happiness and
“finding” joy as though these were specific locations on an actual map. Until
the 18th century, people even believed the Garden of Eden, the biblical notion
of paradise, was a real place, so they depicted in on maps — located, as Weiner
notes the irony, at the intersection of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers where
modern-day Iraq lies. At the same time, the entire self-help industry is built
— and billed — on the premise that happiness is inside us and we simply need to
dig it out. But, Weiner argues, both of these notions are wrong — the line
between “out there” and “in here” is much finer than we’ve been led to believe
and, as he puts it, where we are is vital to who we are.
Great conclusion. Happiness is so subjective. I find that we are faced with another paradox. If we desperately try to find happiness, the harder it will be. For me, happiness lies in appreciating the little things.
ResponderBorrar