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http://www.odemagazine.com/doc/42/the_world_s_happiest_man
He meditated for 10,000 hours, wrote a bestseller with his famous father and became France's most celebrated Buddhist - and its most contented citizen. Ode visited Matthieu Ricard to learn about "the science of the mind" and how it might end human suffering.
Tijn Touber | April 2007 issue
A telephone at each ear and a laptop on his knees: Behold the Buddhist monk who wanted to lead a quiet, meditative life but begrudgingly became a media star. The book he wrote with his father, The Monk and the Philosopher, turned Matthieu Ricard into a celebrity, particularly in his native France. Now - having just arrived from his home in Nepal - he's sitting in a luxurious apartment in Paris with a journalist from the Netherlands. Cheerful, relaxed, the epitome of calm - yet with a telephones in either hand.
Life can certainly take surprising turns, particularly if you're Matthieu Ricard and you find yourself part of the Parisian jet set as a young man, only to reject that lifestyle. His father, who died last year, was the philosopher Jean-Franois Ricard, who wrote a number of bestsellers, including Without Marx or Jesus, under the name "Jean-Franois Revel." He wasn't exactly pleased when his son announced at the age of 25 that he wanted to become a Buddhist. After all, like his father, Matthieu doesn't do anything halfway. He travelled to Nepal, donned a red habit and spent time in monasteries under the guidance of various teachers to master the central theme of the Buddha: putting an end to all suffering - beginning with one's own. So was young Ricard so unhappy? "No, not at all in fact," he says. "I actually had everything a young man could want." His parents were a wonderful couple who appeared to have a magnetic attraction, drawing all kinds of interesting people into their lives. Poet AndrŽ Breton, dancer Maurice BŽjart and painters Leonora Carrington and Yahne Le Toumelin were his mother's close friends. When his father organized dinners, the guest list included the likes of filmmaker Luis Buouel, politician M‡rio Soares and photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson. Not exactly a boring crowd to grow up around. "And yet," Matthieu muses from the large divan in his mother's apartment, "something kept gnawing at me. I often had the uneasy feeling that life was slipping through my fingers - as if I was only using a fraction of my potential. But I had no idea how to tap into the hidden possibilities." Moreover, Ricard saw that the genius many of his parents' friends possessed didn't necessarily make them better people: "Despite their artistic, scientific or intellectual qualities, they weren't any nicer or more altruistic than anyone else." Where, Ricard asked himself during his younger years, can I find wise men like Plato or Socrates who can teach me practical wisdom? Who can show me the deeper meaning of life and give me a noble goal to live for? The answer came from an unexpected place. One day while visiting a friend, he saw film shorts about the Tibetan lamas. These made a deep impression. "I remember thinking: 'If it's possible for a human being to achieve perfection, then this must be it.' I also realized at that moment that I'd never be able to meet Plato or Socrates. But these men were directly approachable."
Not long after, he traveled to northern India. There, at the foot of the Himalayas, he met his first teacher, Kangyour Rinpochee, in the summer of 1967. "I stayed with him for three weeks, although we couldn't exchange a word with one another. I simply sat across from him and intensely enjoyed the friendly serenity he radiated." Back in Paris, it began to dawn on him how important that meeting had been. At the time, Ricard was working as a molecular biologist at the prestigious Pasteur Institute, where he did research under Professor Franois Jacob, who had won the Nobel Prize in Medicine two years earlier. Jacob put Ricard in contact with science giants such as Jacques Monod and AndrŽ Lwoff, but the young researcher's thoughts continued to drift. "I kept thinking about the lama," he remembers, "particularly about his way of being. Finally I had found someone who really inspired me, who could give my life direction and meaning." In 1972, Ricard decided to go live with the lama so he could dedicate himself to studying what seemed to be most essential: the science of the mind. Today, grinning widely, he says: "I never regretted it for a moment." In India and Nepal he came in contact with people completely different from the Parisian elite he grew up with. Says Ricard: "These people are much less focused on themselves. In the West, there's a strong emphasis on personality - on the individual - who must find an original way to express himself no matter what. Western artists, for example, must continually reinvent themselves and allow their fantasy free reign. They try to create imaginary worlds and elicit strong emotions. But Tibetan artists use their art to simply try and fathom the nature of reality. There are wonderful artists there, but their personalities remain completely in the background. They are essentially anonymous." After his first teacher, Kangyour Rinpochee, died in 1975, Ricard met his second teacher, Khyentse Rinpoche, whom he stayed with for 12 years. "Rinpoche" is an honorary title given to special lamas, meaning "the precious one in humankind." In 1979, Ricard was officially initiated. "It gave me an overwhelming feeling of freedom. I had definitively left the busy, externally focused Western world behind and could finally spend all my time awakening in anonymity."
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