Richards, Karen

The Difference between Peace and Happiness: A Buddhist’s Perspective

Karen Richards

—Telford, Shropshire–UK—

From a talk given by Karen Richards to a conference of The National Women’s Register. The conference’s theme was ‘Faith in the Future’ and contributions were invited from a number of different faiths. The original talk can be found on the Telford Buddhist Priory website here: The difference between Peace and Happiness

 

I used to be a member of The National Women’s Register, back in the 1970s and 80s, when my children were small. It was called The National Housewive’s Register then – those were the days! We met in one another’s houses and gave talks on subjects that interested us and I was asked to give one on Buddhism. So this is my second stab at it, you might say. I was just setting out on the Buddhist path at that time and so I gave a talk simply called ‘Buddhism’. Not having much experience of the religion myself, I approached it in a ‘thus have I heard’ sort of way, outlining such teachings as The Four Noble Truths and The Noble Eightfold Path. Today, I intend to approach these teachings slightly differently, as you will see.

 

Rev. Master Jiyu Kennett once told her disciples “I can’t promise you happiness but I can promise you peace”.

 

I was intrigued when I first heard this. I wondered what the difference was; after all, a bit of peace and quiet, with my feet up and a cup of tea, certainly makes me happy. In fact, in the midst of a busy day, it’s probably what I crave the most. So what did Rev. Master mean when she made that statement? Does Buddhism make you unhappy and if you are happy, doesn’t that mean that you are also at peace? Well, not necessarily.

 

In my life I have experienced much happiness. I have a good marriage. My children grew into nice people and I now have five wonderful grandchildren. I’ve had a good career, as a teacher, I helped with the setting up of Telford Buddhist Priory, where people come to share their Buddhist practice. Life has been good.

 

At the same time, there have been difficulties. My husband, David, suffered severe and life changing health issues that in 2007 brought him near to death and left him an invalid, unable to function without a lot of care, mainly mine. My in-laws, whom I dearly loved, both died. My daughter had cancer and needed radical surgery. My father developed a serious heart condition and also needed care up to his death and my dear mum suffers from Alzheimer’s, also needing care (Sadly she died, during the Coronavirus lockdown this year). So even if we are steady, hard-working and seek to live a spiritual life, happiness isn’t something that can be guaranteed. In part, this is because happiness means different things to different people.

 

So, the juxtaposition of those two abstract nouns, ‘peace’ and ‘happiness’ raises the possibility that, in a spiritual context at least, they aren’t necessarily the same thing. It also acknowledges the fact that the pursuit of one, the other or both is what human beings often spend their lives doing, and, although through the media, we may think this is a modern phenomenon, in reality it was ever thus.

 

So, what was it that the Buddha realised? What was it that he taught? First of all, he realised that suffering exists. This is called the First Noble Truth. We could say that we do not need to go through all that the Buddha did to realise that suffering exists – it’s everywhere. We know that people suffer.

 

However, it’s not quite so obvious what the cause of our suffering is. It is easy to get trapped into thinking that some people suffer and others do not, and to blame our suffering only on external causes. But, if you think about it, we hurt most when we lose something, or when we can’t get our own way or when the world isn’t quite how we want it to be. So the Second Noble Truth is that suffering is caused by attachment or clinging to ideas and ideals.

The Third Noble Truth is that there is an end to suffering. It doesn’t have to be this way. The way out of suffering is not necessarily an easy one but the Buddha left us a blueprint, a pathway for us to follow. This blueprint is the Fourth Noble Truth and it is the Noble Eightfold Path; it is a path that if followed, will liberate us from suffering. The elements of that path are:

 

1. Right understanding
2. Right thought
3. Right speech
4. Right action
5. Right livelihood
6. Right effort
7. Right mindfulness
8. Right concentration

 

We often see these elements depicted as a wheel. This is an important image because a wheel is constructed as a series of spokes, with a circular rim. For a wheel to work at its optimum, each spoke has to be as strong as the other. If one spoke is missing, the wheel becomes unstable, so that it is important that each spoke is present.

 

So, bearing what the Buddha taught in mind, I come back to my initial question, “What is the difference between peace and happiness?” Well, as the First Noble Truth indicates, it is important to first understand that suffering exists and that something can be done about it.

 

 

So, all of those years ago, when I was a young mother and a member of National Housewives Register, I had some pretty fixed view about how the world should be. I thought that I was liberal, tolerant and accepting of people’s views, their religion, gender, culture, politics and sexual orientation. I was a member of the Peace Movement. I marched through Hyde Park, with the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, and through the mud at Greenham Common, with my husband, friends and my children. And I sat, with my lighted candle, with my back to the perimeter fence, singing “We Shall Overcome”– I had good intentions. I understood the craziness of this world and I wondered why everyone else wasn’t marching and protesting to effect change, like me.

 

Now, to be clear, it’s not wrong to be part of a political party or social movement or to campaign for any of the things that we believe in. On the contrary, if approached with the right attitude of mind, being willing to put oneself on the line can be a fearless act of giving. Without the willingness to act, most social change would not happen. But, speaking purely of my own attitude of mind, I can see that my idealism often alienated those people around me, who maybe disagreed with my stance. Although well meaning, I wanted the world to be different and I was unaccepting of the way that it actually was or is.

 

From a Buddhist point of view, this is problematic, because if our intentions arise from a harsh judgement, from anger that arises because people behave in a way that does not align with our own world view, from a feeling of discontent, then we will forever be disappointed, because we are different people, looking at things differently; that is the way of things. We won’t be happy and we certainly won’t find peace. So I, like the Buddha and like most of us, experienced a feeling of unsatisfactoriness. This unsatisfactoriness or unhappiness, doesn’t just come from looking at the wider world, it might also come from looking closer to home, like feeling fed up with our own situation, our job, our body, our health, our house, the bedroom wallpaper – anything at all in fact.

 

The good news is, that if that feeling is disconcerting enough, we tend to do something about it. There isn’t just one method of going about this, as we see today, but for me Buddhism appeared in my life. My husband had been interested in meditation for years. And, through a friend and fellow member of the Peace Movement, we were introduced to Sōtō Zen Buddhism. (Serene Reflection Meditation).

 

I had only been meditating and attending a Buddhist group for a short period of time, when a small but significant spiritual experience or awakening of sorts occurred. I remember one day, preparing the evening meal in my little kitchen. I was washing cabbage. It was a savoy, one of the most beautiful vegetables on the planet! I don’t know if you have ever let the water run down the leaf of a savoy. It gives the impression of a river, flowing over a luscious green landscape and the green changes from a dark, almost black at the tips, through to emerald and then a shade of lime, with a pale apple colour, right at the centre. That day, I was enjoying my cabbage washing and I became aware of the energy within the leaf. It was subtle yet very powerful. It felt like it was vibrating, singing almost and I was stopped in my tracks. It was a solitary, momentary experience of deep wonder and serenity, which opened up my heart and mind to the interconnected nature of life and pushed me on to learn more.

 

There was both happiness and unhappiness to come of course. Such is life. This wasn’t a once and for all conversion from one state of mind to another. However, a casual interest in Buddhist meditation turned into a lifetime commitment that day in my kitchen and the memory of it spurred me on when times got tough.

 

The pursuit of happiness, by trying to fit the world into an idea or ideal in my head is futile, it turns out, because happiness shifts and changes. For instance in the 1970s and 80s, I wanted a husband and a family, alongside world peace, a liberal loving society and, if at all possible, a new three piece suite and a slimmer body. I put quite a bit of energy into pursuing all of those things but my first steps along the Buddhist path made me question whether those things were the ultimate of life. It was the chink of an opening into something more sustaining; another dimension of the self, which left all of the other ‘stuff’ standing.

 

In subsequent years, I tried my human best to put into practice the other aspects of the eight spoked wheel we call the Noble Eightfold Path. What I have talked about is how Right Understanding was turned around for me and how this led to a movement of the wheel.

 

So, have I answered my question? Well, happiness is unstable. It changes, just like we change. The things that made me happy at twenty don’t necessarily make me happy now. I would still like the world to be different. I would like people to always be kind; I’d like my husband to be well, my mother not to have had Alzheimer’s and to have a nice long holiday. But the practice of Buddhism has shown me where to take refuge, where to point myself, what lies beyond my wants and discontents.

 

Currently, I have quite a grotty carpet in my living room that I would love to change but can’t afford to. Looking at it makes me feel discontented. If I only see the colour that no longer matches the curtains, or the mark where one of my grandchildren spilt something and I can’t get the stain out, I feel despondent and unhappy. Oh, I’m definitely saving up to change it – that carpet has had its day – but, in the meantime, I am allowing my discontent just to be there. I let it needle and nudge me because I have learned that wherever there is discontent, there is an opportunity to be still and learn something about myself. Little grains of non-acceptance of the way things are become apparent, and it is good to look at them closely with the same honesty and clarity that the Buddha himself did. My stained carpet then is actually a teacher and I am very grateful to it.

 

Happiness is a transient thing. My discontent, like the Buddha’s, if utilised, provides a gateway to peace. They work in tandem. So, I guess that over the years, through Buddhist practice, I have found a certain peace in my life, and that makes me happy.