Racism, and the transformation of anger

Today I rode my bike for the first time in a few weeks. I was in my full bike gear, and was appreciating the fall colors and crisp air of a bluish-tinted afternoon.

I passed three young kids (probably early high-school age) on my way to wait for a traffic light. I waited at the light, and saw that they were coming to the light as well. They seemed to be in a bit of a joking mood, and one started making weird sounds. The others started doing it too, and I quickly realized that they were trying to imitate the sounds of Chinese or Korean in an attempt to make fun of me. They came and stood around me and continued to make the sounds, trying to elicit some sort of response (and made fun of my admittedly silly bike clothes).

Oddly, I said and felt nothing. When I was younger, I would no doubt have felt a flush of adrenaline and would have been angry with them for being racist. I even remember an incident in elementary school when I cried because somebody called me Japanese (I went to an otherwise all-white Jewish elementary school). Instead, I just sat there calmly with a tinge of sadness that they would do such a thing to someone completely unprovoked, and that they most likely would do it to others. I thought of what others must have done to them, and how much they must have suffered in the past for them to think that this would be a fun thing to do to someone else. I felt nothing for myself.

The light changed and I rode off slowly as they continued making sounds. I thought about them, but didn't feel a drop of resentment or anger towards them. I wished them happiness, and hoped that they would some day realize the importance of treating others well. Still, I did feel a hint of regret as I rode on, as I wished I could have said something kind yet stern that would have left a lasting impression that might even change the way they act in the future. Pretty tough to come up with on the spot though.

I think the most amazing part was that I didn't feel any sort of ill will towards them at all. It seems that over the years, I've been slowly changing my hot temper to something much cooler and calm. It's so easy to be happy when anger doesn't arise in the first place, and when you feel compassion and love towards people who would normally make you mad.

Relationships

I took almost exclusively chemistry and Japanese classes when I was in undergrad, but I did get out of my comfort zone to take a sociology class or two. A husband and wife team taught this class, and it was very popular. I forgot most of the content, but two things have stuck with me to this day -- for every negative thing you say to your partner, you should balance with at least 5 positive things, and relationships are something that you're constantly working at (there isn't a point where you should stop trying to improve).

My relationship with my girlfriend (of 10 years) is a tremendous source of happiness for me. Not only do I feel a near-limitless feeling of love for her, but expressing that love makes me so much more "loving" and open to others as well. But I'm not sure I would have made it to this point so easily, had it not been for those two simple pieces of advice.

I had a tendency to be critical of people who I was closest with (read: my girlfriend) since my mother had been the same way with my father, and I assumed that was natural. Even when I understood that negative comments should be sparing, and that I should be as free as possible with positive comments, making the change was difficult. But it was the other piece of advice that made it possible.

When I began to view the relationship not as something static, but more like a skill that you build over time, my attitude towards the potential for change shifted. I wanted to be "really good at my relationship" with her. And I knew that the only way to do that was to approach it like any other activity -- focus on a goal, and practice. At first it was difficult, but I focused on reducing the negative comments, and trying to compliment her more. Progress was slow, but with the right mindset, I began to change.

Since then, we've both changed ourselves in many different ways for each other. Because we were both committed, and had the right attitude towards our relationship, we've developed an incredible level of trust that lets us express a very deep feeling of love for each other. We often joke that we've never loved each other more than we do right now. The amazing thing is that it's true -- because we keep working at it, our love continues to grow.

Being willing to change for your partner is not a risky move -- it's the only way to find true happiness in a relationship.

High-level happiness talk

Had a very interesting talk about happiness and policy with a bunch of public policy students from Harvard yesterday (far more willing to tackle the big issues than the MBAs!). There were some very insightful comments, and a lot of interesting research. But there seemed to be a consistent problem running throughout the discussion; nobody could come to an agreement (either in our group, or amongst the researchers) about what the correct definition of happiness is.

Is it the sum of fleeting positive emotions? Is it the subjective self-evaluation of a person's life satisfaction? Is it a measure of smiles per period? Or the levels of serotonin/oxytocin/dopamine in a person's brain at a given moment?

I personally think we don't talk about happiness enough, and fail to distinguish between the different types of "positive life experiences." This gives us a poor toolset to communicate about happiness. And moreover, given that the objective is ostensibly to raise happiness for large numbers of people, not enough of the people taking part in the discussion have tried and succeeded at improving their own happiness to a point that would give them an understanding of what types of happiness matter, and what types are irrelevant. (Whew, long sentence). Most of the people who want to drive the change have been successful and happy all their lives! (myself included, although there was a long period of questioning and doubt a few years back)

The most beautiful place in the world

I had a dream last night that I was riding around in one of those little white safari vans, admiring the scenery as I rode by. Somehow, I knew I was in an arctic region (it had something to do with the darkness and the low angle of the sun), yet it wasn't cold at all. There wasn't anything particularly notable about the landscape, just some trees and some interesting dark-blue transparent patterns on the black road (were they ice patches?).

There was definitely something interesting about the light though; it came from behind us, and was dimmer, whiter, and clearer than normal sunlight. Everything appeared with the crispness of a cold autumn day, but there was also an incredible fullness and depth to the darker colors, something I'd never seen before. As an incredible sense of beauty filled my thoughts, I turned and declared to my friends: "this is the most beautiful place in the world!"

And it really was. I felt so happy that I was lucky enough to experience that moment. I could see everything so clearly; the colors were so pure and deep.

----

I woke up and had a typical day at business school: running from one class to the next, getting sleepy in lecture, meeting with teammates to work on projects. At the end of the day, I held a short meditation session, and had a great conversation with a friend. I told him about my dream, and how interesting it was that I was so utterly convinced that I had seen the most beautiful place in the world, even though the entire experience was confined entirely to my own mind. And it made me think -- does it even matter where we are or what we're doing? Can we find beauty and happiness in any situation if we simply become "present" and allow ourselves to see it?


After the meditation session, I walked over to admire the Charles. I took this picture, smiled, and thought: "yeah, definitely"