Couldn’t help but notice that all of the ads for the new Apple iPad show users reclining while they work with the device. And I wonder what that says about us.

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OMG!

Is that the way Gen Xers or Ys express outrage? Confusion? Fear?

I’ve got those same feelings, but I go back to an earlier time.

I mean, Dad served in the Army during the war. The good, brave, noble war. The last one that we actually won. And he experienced the Depression (last century’s Depression, not this one), so he was able to teach us the value of a dollar and the importance of hard work.

And that’s pretty much what I’ve been up to for the past, um, four decades. Work. Save. Raise a family. Try to have a life. Work and save.

“How’d that work out for you?” I might be asked if I was talking to Dr. Phil.
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Been reading and hearing about smart cars, including the one actually named the Smart Car–that looks like a grasshopper on wheels and runs all day on a teaspoon of gas. “Smart cars” also refers to a breed of autos that warn you when you’re too close to the Honda in front. And they actually know how to park themselves.

I like it when a smart car actually displays a picture of what’s behind you. There’s a video camera that shows the thing you’re about to Continue reading →

There was a time for me, maybe you’ve had this experience too, when I got a little anxious as someone the age of my kids introduced himself, or herself, as my new doctor.

Or lawyer.

Or Dentist.

I’d look at the impostor’s bright and clean facial features, that fresh skin and eager expression. If this kid was the valet in a parking garage, would I feel comfortable handing him or her my car keys? Never mind the old Toyota. What about entrusting the youngster with my health? My legal problem? Continue reading →

And let’s not address such questions as: “Considering that I’m on a limited budget, can I get a discount if I choose occasional contentment rather than continuous joy?”

Instead, let’s conduct a little shopping expedition. Where exactly does one go to make the purchase?

The obvious starting place is the country’s largest retail outfit. Wander about in Wal-Mart’s well-lit jungle of plastic junk, and imagine that if some of this stuff was in your home or your vehicle, how you would feel more—I don’t know—more contented; perhaps more insulated from the effects of a troubled world. We spent $56.3 billion here during the company’s most recently reported fiscal year. Certainly there’s a measure of happiness to be obtained at that price!

Or is there? Most outlets of Sam Walton’s mighty institution are located in red states (and red districts of blue states), the very places where folks seem to suffer in an aggravated sense of disquiet, as if things aren’t quite settled. Why else would they grasp for solutions that seem reassuringly self-affirming, solutions that are irrational and overly simplistic, to address the angst in their lives and the complex, long-reaching problems in the life of our species, in much the same way that they grab for those giant packs of salty cheese treats? Why else would they stock up on action videos to occupy their hours, rather than just sitting still long enough for reality to sink in?

If it’s not the stuff you get retail, even at the lowest prices, that lures happiness to our hearths, how about homing in on the sounds of laughter and the hits from the 70s that spill out of those dimly lit joints on the corner, even in the middle of the block, found in most every city and town in America? Having conducted a bit of happiness research on my own, during visits to laboratories with names like The Chattering Monkey, A Slice of Heaven and Cheers, I can attest to the excitement of a new friendship, or a fresh revelation, discovered over a glass of amber liquid. My studies confirm that for the mere cost of a cocktail or two (and let me treat that woman at the end of the bar who becomes more attractive as the evening progresses, and my bar bill grows), I can bring a little lift to my heart, some peace to my mind.

Problem is, the sensation experienced here is not the same as the happiness I want to find at the end of my search. Not when the feeling of warmth is replaced by a sense of paranoia during the too slow and cautious drive home, then eventuates in a headache along with the return of a low-dose case of the “dreads.”

Wait a minute. Maybe I’m approaching this all wrong.  To be scientific, I ought to begin by defining happiness.

Okay. Well, it would be associated with peace of mind, of course. And perhaps it would be marked by a rather blissful state, accompanied by a sense of joy, and an absence of anxiety about the condition of the world and about my own circumstances (not having enough of what I want as quickly as I want it).

And it should pass the “Mr. Whisper Test.”

I must explain.

Back in high school, classmates and I were subjected to a series of lectures on what we would now refer to as “values” from a teacher whose job was to instruct us in math.  Maybe it was history. Point is, what he talked about had no relation to the subject at hand. And he did so in a voice so quiet, we had to lean forward over our desks—their surfaces deeply scarred with the 20^th Century version of text messages and blogs, inscribed  by pocket knife—to hear what he was saying.  Perhaps he spoke softly (hence the name, “Mr. Whisper,” though he was actually a Wilson or Williams), on purpose.

We threw spit wads when he wasn’t looking and sometimes when he was. And we had a great laugh at his expense.  But I’ve never forgotten his analogy about eating, to illustrate the difference between gratification and satisfaction.

Gratification is what you get when consuming a candy bar–momentary pleasure, and that’s all. Satisfaction, on the other hand, can be likened to finishing a nutritious meal and experiencing its benefits long after getting up from the table.

Before this digression I was trying to come up with a definition of happiness, knowing it’s in there somewhere, and making the effort to get it out, perhaps in the same way that my cat coughs and gags and works to expel a hairball. And I decided to apply the “Mr. Whisper test,” twisting the model around a little so that satisfaction is equated with happiness, and gratification remains in the realm of momentary pleasure.

Given all these descriptions of happiness then, the question is whether it can be purchased. And if so, how?

These conditions of thought might be achieved by directing the mind into a silence, found through the process of meditation, whereby one concentrates on the act of breathing and eventually comes to gain a broad life perspective, characterized by an appreciation of  nature, and a disregard for the travails and anxieties that pass through on a daily basis.

Now we’re making progress.

And there’s the practice of yoga, or some other body discipline, which helps bones and muscles gain liberty by letting go of gripes and grudges, sadness and anger, old and new.  Can they be bought? Sure. Sign up for a meditation program or yoga classes.

We’ve nowhere else to turn on this journey through logic, than to conclude that happiness, being a state of mind, can only be bought for money if one actually purchases a mind state.

Can you do that?

Well, drugs can alter a state of mind, and you can buy drugs, either from a pharmaceutical company or from a guy I know named Louie.

(To be continued, ’cause that’s enough for now. I’m getting a headache from all this thinking).

“You too!”

That’s what he said to me: “You Too!” When I told him: “Enjoy your trip to New York!”

Wait a minute! I’m not going to New York. He is. And I told him to enjoy the trip. So why did he say “You too”?

I could have said: “Leap off the Empire State Building while you’re there” and he would have said: “You too!”

Had I told him to “Cut your heart out for me.” The answer would have been the same:

“You too!”

Don’t you just love it when the words we lob at each other have no thoughts in them?

Words shouldn’t be empty of meaning, coming from minds devoid of consciousness.

The “You too” response should follow “Take care of yourself.”

Or “Have a nice bray!”

I suppose you should say “You too” when someone’s wish for you is: “Get that disease where the flesh eating bacteria destroy your face.”

“Yeah. You too.”

But not: “Wish Eleanor good luck with her surgery.”

Fortunately, consciousness has an activist.

I’ve pretty much wrapped up my career of waging protest about ruination of our planet. No one listens. Hardly anyone cares. And the campaign to get us to stop wasting lives and money waging war? Another cause with good intention, no traction.

But check this out:

I advocate that people become conscious.

Has a certain ring to it, no?

I’m talking about a major problem here.

Not just words without thought. That’s a symptom.

We also are unaware as we put in our mouths stuff that masquerades as food, dive into relationships that are not good for us, continue habits that destroy our organs, buy crap we can’t afford and don’t need, vote for or against people or ideas without considering the consequences of those choices, deal with each other in ways that are not respectful and fail to notice how that attitude comes back, worry about things that shouldn’t concern us (like the idea of people of the same gender wanting to get married), and ignore real issues that do affect us, such as the speed with which our nation is coming to resemble a third-world country.

Unconsciousness has reached epidemic proportions in our 50 states. It’s no less rampant or destructive than obesity.

I’m taking up this battle to make the citizenry regain consciousness. Made a sign: “Wake up People!” and walked around town with it.

I started stopping people on the street to ask them what’s on their minds. I took a poll and tallied the results so I could report on what folks in our country are thinking about.

I broadcast my findings to the world because they were so remarkable, so revealing and important.

Too bad no one was paying attention.

I asked the “Wise One’’ how those who are conscious and enlightened, and well into middle age, might go about conducting their business.

He suggests:

• Now that you know what’s really important, make sure to organize your life accordingly.

•If you haven’t used something in a year or two, maybe it should be recycled.

•Take an inventory of limbs and organs: use what works and do your best to compensate for what doesn’t.

• Remind yourself that time is not speeding up.  It just seems that way because any period of elapsed time represents an ever-dwindling portion of your involvement in this life. A year seems a long stretch–half a lifetime–to a two year old. But that same period is but a fleeting moment from the perspective of a senior citizen.

• Recharge your mind at least as frequently as you do your mobile phone. Close your eyes and breath. Thinking during this process is strongly discouraged.

•Make sure to have something–such as a picture to look at, or a song to listen to. associated with the happy part of your youth. Then expose yourself to that bit of memorabilia whenever you feel the need to experience a bit of calm or of joy.

•Get used to the idea that yes, we have to keep reminding ourselves about those intelligent insights that help us get through life, but no, the same retraining doesn’t seem to be necessary for bad habits to persist.

•Whenever you’re feeling sad about the road not taken, remember that it too was filled with potholes.