So Where was the Happiness?

Today I went to Brisbane with two other nuns and a layman to see a traditional Chinese doctor. He looked at my eyes and checked the pulse in both my wrists, two of the ways to find out what is not functioning properly in someone. He then asked me what was wrong and when I started to talk, he knew! He drew his chair close and spoke with me a bit more and then began his diagnosis.

He said it in Chinese, so since I speak very little of that elusive (to me) language, I'm not sure exactly what the diagnosis is. But he did make sure I understood it had to do with my throat, gallbladder, lungs, tiredness, and a sore back. (Also a sore arm, which I had already diagnosed as too much time on my computer because I'm spending far less time speaking. ;-)) But my lack of understanding was no real problem because my two brothers (fellow nuns) and Mr. Wang understood.

Dr. Chang showed me some things to do and worked on me a bit (a mixture of western and Chinese methods of treatment ), gave me some Chinese medicine for my throat, lungs, and bones. (Oh, osteoporosis was another problem. Since the world seems taller than it was ten years ago, I was glad for some help in this area as well!)

Next, Dr. Chang carefully checked my three travel companions and treated them as well and gave two some medicine and the third some medicine for my other brothers. Then a nun asked the doctor many questions and explained to me that she was trying to learn from him. She apologized for taking so long, but it was fine with me because when the conversation goes all Chinese, I just start silently chanting "Amituofo, Amituofo,..." Plus everyone was so enthusiastic and laughing so much, it was contagious. So I laughed when others did just for the sheer joy of it.

When we left, we went down the hill to a shopping center to have lunch. As we were eating, the conversation shifted into Chinese, which I half listened to (never know when I'll hear something I know) and half chanted to. Then I began to watch the people around me.

What a contrast!

Previously, we had seen a doctor and my companions had been learning how to help other people. We had been enjoying each others company, looking after one another, and laughing a lot.

But in the mall with all its fancy shops and different places to eat, most people were walking by, not smiling or making eye contact with others, and occasionally talking on their cell phones. I did notice a mother laughing with her child and a young woman laughing along with the elderly, blind woman who was holding her arm. But otherwise, there wasn't the happiness I had seen in the morning or the smiling at strangers that I had so often noticed in Elkhart, Indiana as well as in Nanango and Kingaroy, small towns here in Australia.

We were in the "big city" and people were busier. Or was it more distant and impersonal? Or could it be higher expectations and deeper disappointment? I thought of my mother, who wherever she went smiled at people. It was infectious and people would always smile back. Often a conversation would start. (Very frustrating to me as a teenager. Once on the way home I asked her to pleeeease not talk to anyone in the supermarket. When she took a suspiciously long time to return to the car in relation to the small bag of groceries in her hand. I asked her if she had put on a sign saying "Please talk to me! I promised my daughter I wouldn't start any conversations!!")

But here, nothing like this happened. A woman sat mindlessly eating her lunch (if it was anything like our vegetarian grill it was delicious, but there was no sign she was even aware of her food) while she thumbed through some catalogs. A blank-faced man walked by with a Bluetooth cell phone headset in his ear and a couple not talking to each other walked by carrying their purchases.

Here in a beautiful mall, with many shops and eateries, with people shopping, spending money, and eating at a very nice restaurant—doing what we are told will make us happy—these people were not happy. Perhaps at some level they sensed the emptiness of searching for happiness in possessions and self-indulgence. No happiness here.

Where was it? In the laughter between friends, in the eyes of a mother with her young child, on the face of a young woman sharing laughter with someone who had a good reason to be unhappy, but who apparently chose not to.

The happiness I saw was not from self-indulgence, it came from friendship and from caring for others.