you can see that while there are certain things that can’t be changed, there are others that can. The key focus should be on things you can change that will have a positive impact on your feeling of well-being.”
A distant crash of cymbals and the blast of a Tibetan horn reminded me of the ceremony being held at Namgyal Monastery that day. All the monks were being treated to a celebratory meal in honor of several newly graduated Geshes who had successfully come to the end of their 14 years of study. In the past, I had found that spending time near the monastery kitchens on such occasions proved very rewarding.
Hopping down from Sam’s desk and heading toward the stairs, I reflected on the happiness formula. It was an interesting perspective, and not so different from what His Holiness used to say. Contemporary research from the West and ancient wisdom from the East seemed to be arriving at the same place.
Several days later Bronnie Wellenksy arrived at the café with a new flyer to be posted on the notice board. Bronnie, the 20-something Canadian coordinator of an education charity, used the café notice board to display posters for tourists, announcing activities like visits to craft centers and concerts by local performers. She was boisterous, jolly, and always on the move, her shoulder-length hair perennially disheveled. Although she had been in Dharamsala for only about six months, she was already remarkably well connected.
“This one’s perfect for you,” she called out to Sam, as she pinned a flyer to the board.
Sam looked up from his screen.
“What’s that?”
“We need volunteer teachers to give local teenage kids basic computer training. It boosts their employability.”
“I already have a job,” replied Sam.
“It’s very part time,” Bronnie said. “Like two evenings a week. Even one evening would be great.”
Having secured the flyer in a prominent position, she made her way across to the bookstore counter.
“I’ve n-never taught anybody before,” Sam told her. “I mean, I’m not qualified. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“At the beginning,” she shot back, responding to his uncertain expression with a dazzling smile. “It doesn’t matter that you’ve never taught before. These kids know nothing. They don’t come from families with computers at home. Anything you could help them with would be so, like, amazing. Sorry, I don’t know your name,” she said, reaching her hand across the counter. “I’m Bronnie.”
“Sam.”
As he shook her hand, he seemed to notice her for the very first time.
“I’ve seen you working at the computer,” she said.
He held up his arms in mock surrender. “A geek.”
“Didn’t mean it that way,” she said cheerily.
“But it’s true,’” he countered, with a shrug.
Holding his gaze she said, “You have no idea how much you could help these kids. Even the stuff you take for granted would be a revelation.”
I knew the most likely cause of Sam’s reluctance. In the past he had told both Franc and Geshe Wangpo that he just wasn’t “a people person.” And here was Bronnie asking him to stand up in front of a group and teach.
Bronnie hadn’t taken her eyes off his and was still smiling warmly. “Of all the voluntary activities you could do, this would use your abilities best of all.”
It was the V word that did it. Voluntary. Little did Bronnie know that she had hit on one of the key variables in the happiness formula.
“I would help, of course,” she offered.
Could she see his resistance beginning to crack?
“The Internet people across the road are donating their facilities,” Bronnie explained. “It would only be one hour, in the late afternoon. Basic word processing, perhaps spreadsheets—that kind of thing.”
Sam was nodding.
“Oh, please say you’ll do it!” she gushed.
A smile formed at the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Okay, okay!” he said, looking down at the counter. “I’ll do
A distant crash of cymbals and the blast of a Tibetan horn reminded me of the ceremony being held at Namgyal Monastery that day. All the monks were being treated to a celebratory meal in honor of several newly graduated Geshes who had successfully come to the end of their 14 years of study. In the past, I had found that spending time near the monastery kitchens on such occasions proved very rewarding.
Hopping down from Sam’s desk and heading toward the stairs, I reflected on the happiness formula. It was an interesting perspective, and not so different from what His Holiness used to say. Contemporary research from the West and ancient wisdom from the East seemed to be arriving at the same place.
Several days later Bronnie Wellenksy arrived at the café with a new flyer to be posted on the notice board. Bronnie, the 20-something Canadian coordinator of an education charity, used the café notice board to display posters for tourists, announcing activities like visits to craft centers and concerts by local performers. She was boisterous, jolly, and always on the move, her shoulder-length hair perennially disheveled. Although she had been in Dharamsala for only about six months, she was already remarkably well connected.
“This one’s perfect for you,” she called out to Sam, as she pinned a flyer to the board.
Sam looked up from his screen.
“What’s that?”
“We need volunteer teachers to give local teenage kids basic computer training. It boosts their employability.”
“I already have a job,” replied Sam.
“It’s very part time,” Bronnie said. “Like two evenings a week. Even one evening would be great.”
Having secured the flyer in a prominent position, she made her way across to the bookstore counter.
“I’ve n-never taught anybody before,” Sam told her. “I mean, I’m not qualified. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“At the beginning,” she shot back, responding to his uncertain expression with a dazzling smile. “It doesn’t matter that you’ve never taught before. These kids know nothing. They don’t come from families with computers at home. Anything you could help them with would be so, like, amazing. Sorry, I don’t know your name,” she said, reaching her hand across the counter. “I’m Bronnie.”
“Sam.”
As he shook her hand, he seemed to notice her for the very first time.
“I’ve seen you working at the computer,” she said.
He held up his arms in mock surrender. “A geek.”
“Didn’t mean it that way,” she said cheerily.
“But it’s true,’” he countered, with a shrug.
Holding his gaze she said, “You have no idea how much you could help these kids. Even the stuff you take for granted would be a revelation.”
I knew the most likely cause of Sam’s reluctance. In the past he had told both Franc and Geshe Wangpo that he just wasn’t “a people person.” And here was Bronnie asking him to stand up in front of a group and teach.
Bronnie hadn’t taken her eyes off his and was still smiling warmly. “Of all the voluntary activities you could do, this would use your abilities best of all.”
It was the V word that did it. Voluntary. Little did Bronnie know that she had hit on one of the key variables in the happiness formula.
“I would help, of course,” she offered.
Could she see his resistance beginning to crack?
“The Internet people across the road are donating their facilities,” Bronnie explained. “It would only be one hour, in the late afternoon. Basic word processing, perhaps spreadsheets—that kind of thing.”
Sam was nodding.
“Oh, please say you’ll do it!” she gushed.
A smile formed at the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Okay, okay!” he said, looking down at the counter. “I’ll do
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