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This is the story of a book, a philosophy, and how the two are inextricably intertwined in my mind. The book is Learned Optimism by Martin E.P. Seligman, Ph.D. The philosophy is Buddhism. Both were initially first recommended to me by the first shrink I ever saw twice.

She recommended both book and philosophy highly. I didn't listen. For starters, optimists give me the willies. I consider myself to be a realist. There's an old saying that the pessimist sees only the overwhelming darkness of the tunnel; the optimist sees only the light at the end of the tunnel; but the realist is the one who recognizes that light as the headlamp of the oncoming train.

Buddhism was even less personally appealing. For some reason, its proponents seemed to consider the cessation of desire to be a good thing! Now, anyone who knows me at all will understand just how unappetizing that particular idea was to my sensibilities. I love my desires. I live for my desires. Hell, I am my desires. Desire didn't cause suffering, desire caused pleasure. The basic premise didn't make sense.

I was resistant to pretty much everything she told me and never bothered to follow either lead, even though other sources were to second her advice and recommendations in the years to come.

Finally, a copy of Learned Optimism found its way into my hands when I was right at the end of a junket of self-help book reading and right before I discovered The Secret. The timing was exactly right; I was ready to listen. Immediately I kicked myself for not reading it years before as I quickly realized what I held in my hands. It was a formula! This book contained a systematic process for making practical, immediate life changes.

Difficulties in life are discussed in terms of personal explanatory styles, or "habitual way(s) of explaining bad events", which stem directly from your view of your place in the world whether you think you are valuable and deserving or worthless and hopeless it is the hallmark of whether you are an optimist or a pessimist." (Seligman 44) People with pessimistic explanatory styles tend to "give up easily and become depressed." (Seligman 98) People with optimistic explanatory styles tend to bounce back and pick up again where they started. The difference is not in how we appear to others, but rather is a way "to talk to yourself when you suffer a personal defeat." (Seligman 207)

Explanatory styles involve choices centering around three areas of perception: permanence, pervasiveness, and personalization. When events happen, whether we perceive them as either negative or positive, we habitually filter them through these three dimensions, each which presents a distinct choice of its own; permanent versus temporary, specific versus universal, and internal versus external.

For example, when something bad happens to me, I can choose to believe its existence to be either permanent or temporary; i.e. "I never get things done on time!" versus "I let myself get distracted, this time." Thinking of bad things in permanent terms of never' or always' indicates a pessimistic explanatory style, whereas using qualifiers like sometimes' and lately' and blaming bad events on temporary or "transient conditions" marks one as an optimist. (Seligman 44)

Conversely, when something good happens to me, I also choose to believe its existence to be either permanent or temporary. "It's my lucky day" versus "I'm always lucky." (Seligman 45) Here, thinking of good things in terms of permanent causes indicates an optimistic explanatory style, whereas a tendency to view good things as temporary in nature is certainly pessimistic.

"Permanence is about time. Pervasiveness is about space." (Seligman 46) Pervasiveness, the second area of perception, pertains to how much we let our reactions to events bleed over into other areas of our lives.

For example, when something bad happens to me, I can choose to believe its existence to be either universal and widespread throughout my life or specific and confined merely to a particular instance; i.e. "My life sucks." Versus "I don't like my job very much."

Thinking of bad things in universal terms, making broad generalizations about such and applying them to life across the board is the mark of a pessimist, whereas isolating specific feelings of failure to the pertinent events themselves and not letting them spill over into other areas of life indicates a more optimistic explanatory style.

Conversely, when something good occurs, I choose to believe its existence to be either pervasive or situationally dependent; i.e. "I'm smart." Versus "I'm smart at math." (Seligman 48) Here, thinking of good things in universal terms indicates an optimistic explanatory style, whereas the tendency to view good things as isolated by circumstance is sad and certainly pessimistic.

The third dimension of perception, Personalization, involves blame and credit. For example, when something bad happens to me, I choose to believe its existence to be from either internal or external sources; i.e. "I'm insecure." Versus "I grew up in poverty." (Seligman 50) Thinking of bad things as internally caused not only indicates pessimism but also low self esteem, whereas placing fault externally is actually more optimistic and self validating.

Conversely, when good things happen, our tendency to credit either ourselves or others indicates healthy optimism or pessimism, respectively, as "people who believe they cause good things tend to like themselves better than people who believe good things come from other people or circumstances." (Seligman 50)

In summary, a person with an optimistic explanatory style would tend to interpret good events as permanent, pervasive, and personal and to interpret bad events as temporary, specific, and externally caused.

By contrast, a person with a pessimistic explanatory style would tend to interpret good events as temporary, specific, and externally caused and to interpret bad events as permanent, pervasive and personally wrought.

But what does all this have to do with Buddhism, you may ask? Good question. Where Seligman's book provided a simple formula for immediate application, Buddhism, as explained by Thich Nhat Hanh in The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching, provides a deeper explanation, an almost meta understanding of the same concepts. When discussing the Three Dharma Seals, the Buddha "offered us impermanence, nonself, interbeing, and emptiness to discover the true nature of reality." (Hanh 137)

In some senses, we can draw direct connections between the three areas of perception (permanence, pervasiveness, and personalization) and the Three Dharma Seals of impermanence (anitya), nonself (anatman), and nirvana. Indeed, Thich Nhat Hanh even uses near identical language to describe the nature of the first two seals, "From the point of view of time, we say impermanence', and from the point of view of space, we say nonself'." (Hanh 132) The comparisons stop matching up so neatly after that, but I believe the topics encompassed within The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching more than envelop those in Learned Optimism, taking us from mere practice and following of formula to a living understanding, to wisdom.

For when one applies the understanding gained from Buddhist teaching to the layer of action based upon optimist formulas, we then "stop discussing things and begin to realize the teachings in our own life, a moment comes when we realize that our life is the path, and we no longer rely merely on the forms of practice." (Hanh 122)

I must have had more Buddhist teachers these last few years than I ever imagined. By the time I discovered the path, I found I was already walking it. Most startling was to find a personal understanding of the truth in statements like this, that "when we feel happy and peaceful, our happiness and peace radiate around us, and others can enjoy it as well." (Hanh 159)

I came to my own understanding of impermanence, interbeing, nonself, and emptiness through contemplation of the night sky combined with simultaneous study in astronomy, chemistry and human biology. It was easy to see the interconnected yet fleeting nature of all things when viewed from either the macro or microcosmic level, or both.

But there was still something missing. I still didn't understand all this nonsense about desire and suffering. Sure, I get that all life is suffering. I can accept that as a point of argument, even if it does seem somewhat, um, pessimistic. The problem was not with the philosophy as such, but rather, the oversimplification of the philosophy into what is, admittedly, a hot button term for me personally. Better, for me, than desire is to think in terms of non-attachment.

In a way, Buddhism can be considered to be that realism I was so fond of. Buddhism realizes and recognizes that everything pretty much sucks. In fact, the Five Remembrances spell it out quite clearly:

I am of the nature to grow old, have ill-health, and die. Everyone I love will change and die and "my actions are my only true belongings." (Hanh 124)

Rather than being depressing, these remembrances are liberating as they remind us to be mindful of the joys of the here and now.

In fact, that is the key to non-attachment, is mindfulness. Attachment is to things not of the here and now; past lost or future dreamed or dreaded, the inability to live in the present moment is what keeps us imprisoned and causes us anxiety, "the illness of our time." Yet, "letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything anger, anxiety, or possessions we cannot be free." (Hanh 78) In fact, Thich Nhat Hanh goes on to say, "If we look deeply into our craving, we will see that we already have what we crave, because everything is already a part of everything else." (Hanh 79)

In The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching, Thich Nhat Hanh talks about habit energies, our mindless ways of being that sweep and push us along. He says that we must learn to simply stop. The three dimensions of perception in Learned Optimism may be thought of as habit energies that we must learn to stop, examine, and rearrange. Left unchecked, these habitual energies carry us along like a runaway horse. When asked where we are going, we may only refer the question to the horse.

Only by stopping will we be able to "touch the truth of suffering with our mindfulnessto recognize and identify our specific suffering, its specific causes, and the way to remove these causes and end our suffering." (Hanh 22) We must face our suffering. That therapist, the one who first introduced me to these ideas, she also told me to meditate. I told her I couldn't stop thinking long enough. She said that if I had a thought, to simply recognize it as such.

Her words could have come straight from The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching:

"To observe our feelings, we sit on the bank of the river and identify each feeling as it flows by. It may be pleasant, unpleasant, or neutralRecognize it, smile to it, look deeply into it, and embrace it with all our heart. If we continue to look deeply, we discover the true nature of that feeling, and we are no longer afraid." (Hanh 178)

This brings me back to my current position on the path, that of a writer constantly trying to overcome fear and live truly and deeply, because "non-fear is the basis of true happiness. The greatest gift we can offer others is our non-fear." (Hanh 212) I sure hope that's true, because that is the path I intend to take straight into the fear. I will love my fear and embrace it, and in it, find peace. And fear itself? I choose to view fear as temporary, situationally specific, and externally caused; whereas happiness will be considered as permanent, pervasive and intrinsic to my basic existence. And I will drink deeply of both as I watch them flow by.