I go. I come. Welcome.
Is this a travel book? Yes, but not a typical one. While I do log thousands of miles in researching the book, The Geography of Bliss is really a travelogue of ideas. I roam the world in search of answers to the pressing questions of our time: What are the essential ingredients for the good life? Why are some places happier than others? How are we shaped by our surroundings? Why can’t airlines serve a decent meal?
Is this a self-help book? Perhaps, but not like any you’ve read before. I offer no simple bromides here. No chicken soup. You will find no easy answers in these pages. You will, however, find much to chew on and, perhaps, some unexpected inspiration. We Americans, it turns out, have no monopoly on the pursuit of happiness. There is wisdom to be found in the least likely of places.
Place. That is what The Geography of Bliss is about. How place—in every aspect of the word—shapes us, defines us. Change your place, I believe, and you can change your life.
Is this a self-help book? Perhaps, but not like any you’ve read before. I offer no simple bromides here. No chicken soup. You will find no easy answers in these pages. You will, however, find much to chew on and, perhaps, some unexpected inspiration. We Americans, it turns out, have no monopoly on the pursuit of happiness. There is wisdom to be found in the least likely of places.
Place. That is what The Geography of Bliss is about. How place—in every aspect of the word—shapes us, defines us. Change your place, I believe, and you can change your life.
A friend recommended this book to me maybe five years ago, and I wish I had time to read it again before I left for my semester abroad. I'm now finding the book relevant in my life again but not for the same reasons. The first time I read The Geography of Bliss, I was so ready to leave my little suburb and ached to stretch my arms out until my hands could grab onto the happiness that Weiner was telling me was out there. I couldn't wait to sample the many tastes of bliss from around the world he described, to refresh my taste buds that had turned dull from years of passing by the same old neutral-colored houses and trimmed trees that lined the neatly paved roads of my hometown. I wanted to grow and expand in a place that would constantly feed my heart with new sights and sounds. Now, I think my six month journey away from home might have just the opposite purpose. I'm starting to feel myself searching inward rather than out. Now, I think back to this quote from Weiner's book:
'The word "utopia" has two meanings. It means both "good place" and "nowhere". That's the way it should be. The happiest places, I think, are the ones that reside just this side of paradise. The perfect person would be insufferable to live with; likewise, we wouldn't want to live in the perfect place, either. "A life time of happiness! No man could bear it: It would be hell on earth," wrote George Bernard Shaw, in his play Man and Superman.'
If there was anything good that came out of the nightmare that was Sophomore Slump, it was the lesson that thinking about happiness makes us less happy. We think that the perfect transcript, the perfect resume, and the perfect career will build us this utopia of a future to the point that we let ourselves delay happiness under this pressure to attain perfection. We are obsessed with a perfection that will somehow provide us with happiness later. Meanwhile, we let go of right now. Every moment is right now, and every moment is an opportunity for happiness.
While I initially chose to study in Ghana to push myself outside of my comfort zone, it's actually been a really comforting experience so far. I really do think it's because this place has created room for imperfection. We get upset over things because we want perfection. Who would have thought that cold showers, lizards in my dorm room, and cramped tro-tro buses would put me at ease? These imperfections and lack of basic comforts, like clean running water and fast Wi-Fi, have led me to put my expectations aside. I don't find myself going about my day with this looming need to get ahead. I don't think about happiness. I'm finding it in everything as I go along. I'm here to make new friends, see new places, and learn about things I genuinely have an interest in. Why is it that we don't allow ourselves to prioritize such obviously important things? We ignore fundamental things that make us happy because we think that there is some bigger, greater happiness out there. I don't think there is, and I hope that living in Ghana will help teach me to let go of this greed for perfection.
You might think it's easier said than done, putting happiness before responsibilities and obligations. You might be right, but I'm honestly tired of happiness being turned into some naive cliche. Meaningful lives can be happy ones too. With that, I want this blog to be a place where I share moments of happiness that I encounter during this trip. I hope that you can be part of this experience in which I rediscover pieces of happiness already inside of me, and I wish to return home having changed from inside out.
To wrap up, I'll relay a little info I picked up this last week. Akwaaba is the word for 'welcome' in the language of Twi. The word is the combination of two phrases. The first is a ko, or 'I go'. The second is a ba, or 'I come'. A ko a ba turns into akwaaba. Although I've gone, left home, I've come to Ghana, and they tell me welcome.
I go. I come. Welcome.
'The word "utopia" has two meanings. It means both "good place" and "nowhere". That's the way it should be. The happiest places, I think, are the ones that reside just this side of paradise. The perfect person would be insufferable to live with; likewise, we wouldn't want to live in the perfect place, either. "A life time of happiness! No man could bear it: It would be hell on earth," wrote George Bernard Shaw, in his play Man and Superman.'
If there was anything good that came out of the nightmare that was Sophomore Slump, it was the lesson that thinking about happiness makes us less happy. We think that the perfect transcript, the perfect resume, and the perfect career will build us this utopia of a future to the point that we let ourselves delay happiness under this pressure to attain perfection. We are obsessed with a perfection that will somehow provide us with happiness later. Meanwhile, we let go of right now. Every moment is right now, and every moment is an opportunity for happiness.
While I initially chose to study in Ghana to push myself outside of my comfort zone, it's actually been a really comforting experience so far. I really do think it's because this place has created room for imperfection. We get upset over things because we want perfection. Who would have thought that cold showers, lizards in my dorm room, and cramped tro-tro buses would put me at ease? These imperfections and lack of basic comforts, like clean running water and fast Wi-Fi, have led me to put my expectations aside. I don't find myself going about my day with this looming need to get ahead. I don't think about happiness. I'm finding it in everything as I go along. I'm here to make new friends, see new places, and learn about things I genuinely have an interest in. Why is it that we don't allow ourselves to prioritize such obviously important things? We ignore fundamental things that make us happy because we think that there is some bigger, greater happiness out there. I don't think there is, and I hope that living in Ghana will help teach me to let go of this greed for perfection.
You might think it's easier said than done, putting happiness before responsibilities and obligations. You might be right, but I'm honestly tired of happiness being turned into some naive cliche. Meaningful lives can be happy ones too. With that, I want this blog to be a place where I share moments of happiness that I encounter during this trip. I hope that you can be part of this experience in which I rediscover pieces of happiness already inside of me, and I wish to return home having changed from inside out.
To wrap up, I'll relay a little info I picked up this last week. Akwaaba is the word for 'welcome' in the language of Twi. The word is the combination of two phrases. The first is a ko, or 'I go'. The second is a ba, or 'I come'. A ko a ba turns into akwaaba. Although I've gone, left home, I've come to Ghana, and they tell me welcome.
I go. I come. Welcome.
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