Transcriber: Adrienne Lin Reviewer: Maria Teresa Posalski
So, yes. That is a selfie.
But no, I didn't have my fingers in the light socket,
or had them in the blender.
This image was actually taken at 6:30 in the morning,
in a tent,
at about 14,000 feet in Bhutan,
which is a small Himalayan country above India and below Tibet
that's thought to be the happiest place on Earth.
And I was weeks into one of the most challenging film projects in my life.
A 42-day, 485-mile trip
to cross Bhutan, border to border,
by foot and by bike,
with four adventure athletes.
Needless to say, I was in way over my head.
So in addition to managing a film team of four,
we, as a film team, we were carrying all of our film equipment.
So we were tracking all the miles the team was tracking,
but then we'd rocket ahead to get in position,
to drop into plumber position,
as I am here trying to get a shot of the team.
And they'd rocket past, and we'd run and catch up.
This was everyday.
And we had stretches of ten days without power,
so improvised a solar solution on our support donkey
to keep our four cameras and two laptops charged
for the duration of the trip.
It was crazy.
And the irony was that,
here I was, in one of the happiest places on Earth,
and I, myself, was deeply unhappy.
I came to Bhutan
because I was fascinated by Bhutan's concept of "Gross National Happiness."
And I really wanted to understand what we could learn from the Bhutanese
about living happier, more meaningful lives.
But here I was, so caught up in the frenetic pace of the trip,
and was so much stressed in making this film,
that I barely had time to stop,
be in one place,
and really connect with the beauty of where I was.
When I got home, it took me almost two months to unwind from the trip.
And I reflected that this was a way
that I'd spent a lot of my adult life:
constantly in motion,
often juggling multiple projects, experiencing lots of stress,
and feeling like I didn't have time
for the things that really mattered most in my life.
And so, I decided to go back to Bhutan.
And the time I spent in Bhutan on the return trip was filled
with some of the happiest moments in my life,
and put me into contact with a way of being
that was less about striving and ambition,
and really all about connection --
connection to others,
connection to the natural world,
and to a sense of purpose.
Today, I want to share with you a few stories from that trip
to illustrate how the Bhutanese keep the sense of connection alive
in their communities.
First, I want to give you a little bit of context
on Gross National Happiness
because it's how most people come to hear about Bhutan.
For millenia, due to its geographic isolation,
Bhutan had very little exposure to the outside world.
And then in the 70s,
as the first tourists came into Bhutan,
the fourth king of Bhutan recognized that his country was at a crossroads.
And that if you took the same approach to development,
as other countries,
his country's unique traditions, culture,
natural beauty, might be destroyed.
So he declared Gross National Happiness
to be more important than gross domestic product.
In the last thirty years,
Bhutan has partnered with some of the world's leading economists,
psychologists, policy-makers,
to transform gross national happiness from a slogan
to a sophisticated indicator for well-being,
with 33 indicators, and 9 domains,
including things like
time use,
psychological well-being,
community vitality,
ecological diversity and resilience.
And it struck me as I went deeper with gross national happiness,
that this is really a different way of conceiving of happiness
and I think we're accustomed here in the west.
We often think of happiness as the pursuit of pleasure,
and I think it has something to do with our macro-economic picture
as well.
Aristotle coined this notion of happiness as hedonic happiness or well-being.
But there's another notion of happiness known as
eudaimonic happiness or well-being,
which basically says that happiness is the outcome or an expression
of living a good life,
living a meaningful life.
a life with rich social connections,
with a sense of purpose,
where you feel life your strengths
are being used in service of something greater than yourselves,
than yourself.
And I think this is what Bhutan is after with gross national happiness.
The first story that I'd like to share with you
took place in a small village called Ura village.
Because I was told that if you really want to understand
the source of Bhutan's contentment,
then you've got to head to rural Bhutan,
because this is where a way of being is preserved for hundreds of years.
So we arrived in Ura,
we were immediately welcomed into the monastery.
Every community has a monastery.
And in addition to being a place for Buddhist practice,
it's really a community hub.
Soon as we arrived, we were served a meal
of red rice, chilly and cheese, which is known as "ema-datse" in Bhutan.
You can't escape Bhutan without having the chillies and cheese.
It's a favorite; they put it on every dish.
It's fiery and delicious.
Completely delicious.
We were introduced to this man, who was a visiting lama,
and he had this beaming, electric smile.
Almost jokingly, I said, "Oh what's the secret to gross national happiness?"
He said, "Oh it's very simple.
Happiness is when you're less busy,
and you have time to be together,
like we are today."
And as I looked around in that monastery,
I saw Bhutanese from every generation gathered there.
It struck me that if you were born in this village,
as you grew up, every face that you saw would be an intimately familiar face.
and it would not be an easy life.
But it would be a life with this strong sense of belonging or social connection.
The research is suggesting that this sense of social connection
is actually one of the most important predictors for happiness,
and that low social connection
is actually worse for you than smoking or high blood pressure.
What concerns me
is that, despite all of our technological conductivity,
we're spending more and more time
by ourselves,
commuting, at work,
and on our devices.
Sherry Turkle, an MIT professor, in her book "Alone Together"
talks about how our relationship with technology
has left us uncomfortable cultivating a sense of social intimacy.
And often opting out of the sort of face-to-face time
that we know is so important in driving social connection.
So what I took away from my time in Bhutan,
and in witnessing all the diverse ways they gather,
from the frequent tea breaks, and shared meals,
to the beautiful, collective dances
and festivals known as "Tsechus"
was an appreciation for the power of coming together
face to face, with a shared intent
in creating this sense of social connection or intimacy.
What you're seeing right now is actually a collective dance
featuring hundreds of Bhutanese
from both political parties.
Can you imagine Boehner and Obama rallying the parties?
Together? I think it'd be disastrous and amazing.
If you're listening to this talk online, either of you, please, I'd love to see it.
(Laughter)
The second story I'd like to share with you took place
as we were travelling to eastern Bhutan.
There was only one main highway in Bhutan, east-west road,
and it threads its way to the Himalayas.
We were driving for hours, and I was getting a little bit of carsick.
So I stepped out of the car,
and as I looked out,
as far as my eyes could see was green
and this dance of clouds over the forest.
Our driver, who's a former lama,
explained to me that when they were building these roads,
the monks did a set of "pujas", or blessings,
to honor the trees and ask their permission
before building.
I asked, "why?"
And he explained that, in the Bhutanese world view,
every rock,
every tree,
every sentient being is seen as deeply interconnected.
And the rituals exist to help honor those connections.
Now, in Ecology, this is known as the principle of interdependence.
that every being
is dependent on the web of beings that surrounds it for survival.
Now, if the Bhutanese
decided to cut down all of their forests tomorrow,
they would instantly raise their GDP, and solve all of their economic growth.
But instead, on the gross national happiness,
the Bhutanese have committed to maintaining at least 70% forest cover.
It's one of the few countries in the world
that's actually carbon-negative --
it actively sequesters more carbon from the atmosphere than they emit.
The last story I'd like to share with you is about this young man, Pema Tshering.
During my last week in Bhutan,
I had an opportunity to volunteer with an organization
called the Bhutan Centre for Media and Democracy,
that's doing work giving youth the tools of documentary story-telling.
And one of the groups in our workshop chose to profile Pema.
Pema was born with cerebral pausy, and has limited use of his arms.
But, for the last ten years,
Pema has studied traditional Bhutanese art and handicrafts,
which he does with his feet.
Recently, he opened his own workshop,
and the work that he produces is incredible.
Pema explained to me that
what gives him deepest happiness
is this feeling that he plays some small part
in keeping his country's unique traditions and culture alive,
and that his deepest wish
is to, one day, be able to support his grandparents.
Before leaving,
of course, I bought several of Pema's pieces of work,
which he insisted would be way more valuable if he signed them.
So, of course, I obliged.
Now, Bhutan is not perfect,
and certainly doesn't have all the answers.
But I do feel like the Bhutanese are asking the right questions.
What is the point of our limited time here on this planet,
if not to celebrate the health and well-being of our communities?
We're to stand in awe
of the tremendous natural beauty of this place that we call home.
Because the truth
is that every moment that we have here
is a gift.
So, as we part ways today,
I'd like to leave you with a question, an invitation:
what if happiness was as simple as slowing down,
gathering with friends and loved ones, like we've done today,
and sharing your gifts the best way that you know how?
Thank you very much.
(Applause)