When asked about happiness, we usually think of something extraordinary, an absolute delight, which seems to get rarer the older we get.

    For kids, happiness has a magical quality. Their delight at winning a race or getting a new bike is unreserved (毫无掩饰的).

    In the teenage years the concept of happiness changes. Suddenly it's conditional on such things as excitement, love and popularity. I can still recall the excitement of being invited to dance with the most attractive boy at the school party.

    In adulthood the things that bring deep joy—love, marriage, birth—also bring responsibility and the risk of loss. For adults, happiness is complicated.

    My definition of happiness is “the capacity for enjoyment”. The more we can enjoy what we have, the happier we are. It's easy to overlook the pleasure we get from the company of friends, the freedom to live where we please, and even good health.

    I experienced my little moments of pleasure yesterday. First I was overjoyed when I shut the last lunch-box and had the house to myself. Then I spent an uninterrupted morning writing, which I love. When the kids and my husband came home, I enjoyed their noise after the quiet of the day.

    Psychologists tell us that to be happy we need a mix of enjoyable leisure time and satisfying work. I don't think that my grandmother, who raised 14 children, had much of either. She did have a network of close friends and family, and maybe this is what satisfied her.

    We, however, with so many choices and such pressure to succeed in every area, have turned happiness into one more thing we've got to have. We're so self-conscious about our “right” to it that it's making us miserable. So we chase it and equal it with wealth and success, without noticing that the people who have those things aren't necessarily happier.

    Happiness isn't about what happens to us—it's about how we see what happens to us. It's the skillful way of finding a positive for every negative. It's not wishing for what we don't have, but enjoying what we do possess.

    Reading can be a social activity. Think of the people who belong to book groups. They choose books to read and then meet to discuss them. Now, the website BookCrossing.com turns the page on the traditional idea of a book group.

    Members go on the site and register the books they own and would like to share. BookCrossing provides an identification number to stick inside the book. Then the person leaves it in a public place, hoping that the book will have an adventure, traveling far and wide with each new reader who findsit.

    Bruce Pederson, the managing director of BookCrossing, says, “The two things that change your life are the people you meet and books you read. BookCrossing combines both.”

    Members leave books on park benches and buses, in train stations and coffee shops. Whoever finds their book will go to the site and record where they found it.

    People who find a book can also leave a journal entry describing what they thought of it. E-mails are then sent to the BookCrossing to keep them updated about where their books have been found. Bruce Peterson says the idea is for people not to be selfish by keeping a book to gather dust on a shelf at home.

    BookCrossing is part of a trend among people who want to get back to the “real” and not the virtual(虚拟). The site now has more than one million members in more than one hundred thirty-five countries.

    There were smiling children all the way. Clearly they knew at what time the train passed their homes and they made it their business to stand along the railway, wave to complete strangers and cheer them up as they rushed towards Penang. Often whole families stood outside their homes and waved and smiled as if those on the trains were their favorite relatives. This is the simple village people of Malaysia. I was moved.

    I had always traveled to Malaysia by plane or car, so this was the first time I was on a train. I did not particularly relish the long train journey and had brought along a dozen newspapers and magazines to read and reread. I looked about the train. There was not one familiar face. I sighed and sat down to read my 21^st Century Teens.

    It was not long before the train was across the Causeway and in Malaysia. Johore Baru was just another city like Singapore, so I was tired of looking at the crowds of people as they hurried past. As we went beyond the city, I watched the straight rows of rubber trees and miles and miles of green. Then the first village came into sight. Immediately I came alive; I decided to wave back.

From then on my journey became interesting. I threw my magazines into the waste basket and decided to join in Malaysian life. Then everything came alive. The mountains seemed to speak to me. Even the trees were smiling. I stared at everything as if I was looking at it for the first time.

    The day passed fast and I even forgot to have my lunch until I felt hungry. I looked at my watch and was surprised that it was 3:00 pm. Soon the train pulled up at Butterworth. I looked at the people all around me. They all looked beautiful. When my uncle arrived with a smile, I threw my arms around him to give him a warm hug. I had never done this before. He seemed surprised and then his weather-beaten face warmed up with a huge smile. We walked arm in arm to his car.    I looked forward to the return journey, by train.

                                        Do dogs understand us?

    Be careful what you say around your dog. It might understand more than you think.

    A border collie named Rico recognizes the names of about 200 objects, say researchers in Germany. The dog also appears to be able to learn new words as easily as a 3-year-old child. Its word-learning skills are as good as those of a parrot or chimpanzee(黑猩猩).

    In one experiment, the researchers took all 200 items that Rico is supposed to know and divided them into 20 groups of 10 objects. Then the owner told the dog to go and fetch one of the items and bring it back. In four tests, Rico got 37 out of 40 commands right. As the dog couldn't see anyone to get clues, the scientists believe Rico must understand the meanings of certain words.

    In another experiment, the scientists took one toy that Rico had never seen before and put it in a room with seven toys whose names the dog already knew. The owner then told Rico to fetch the object, using a word the dog had never heard before.

    The correct object was chosen in seven out of l0 tests, suggesting that the dog had worked out the answer by process of elimination(排除法). A month later, Rico remembered half of the new names, which is even more impressive.

    Rico is thought to be smarter than the average dog. For one thing, Rico is a border collie, a breed (品种)known for its mental abilities. In addition, the 9-year-old dog has been trained to fetch toys by their names since the age of nine months.

    It's hard to know if all dogs understand at least some of the words we say. Even if they do, they can't talk back. Still, it wouldn't hurt to sweet-talk your dog every now and then. You might just get a big, wet kiss in return!

    Twenty years ago, I drove a taxi for a living. One night I went to pick up a passenger at 2:30 a.m. When I arrived to collect, I found the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.

    I walked to the door and knocked, "Just a minute," answered a weak, elderly voice. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her eighties stood before me. By her side was a small suitcase.

    I took the suitcase to the car, and then returned to help the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the car.

    She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."

    "Oh, you're such a good man." She said. When we got into the taxi, she gave me an address, and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"

    "It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

    "Oh, I'm in no hurry," she said. "I'm on my way to a hospice(临终医院). I don't have any family left. The doctor says I don't have very long."

    I quietly reached over and shut off the meter(计价器).

    For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked, the neighborhood where she had lived, and the furniture shop that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

    Sometimes she'd ask me to slow down in front of a particular building and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

    At dawn, she suddenly said," I'm tired. Let's go now."

    We drove in silence to the address she had given me.

    "How much do I owe you?" she asked.

    "Nothing." I said.

    "You have to make a living," she answered. "Oh, there are other passengers," I answered.

    Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto e tightly. Our hug ended with her remark, "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy."

    Last year, on report card day, my son and a bunch of his 13-year-old friends piled into the back seat of my car, ready for the last-day-of-school party at McDonald's. "Jack got a laptop for getting straight A's, and Laurie got a cell phone," one boy said. "Oh, yeah, and Sarah got an iPod Nano, and she's only in third grade," said another. "And how about Brian? He got $10 for each A."

    I suddenly became concerned. These payoffs might get parents through grammar school, but what about high school and beyond? What would be left after the electric guitar, the cell phone, and the portable laptop?

    I saw the road ahead: As the homework load increased, my income would decrease. I saw my comfortable lifestyle vanish before my eyes — no more of those $5 bags of already-peeled organic carrots. No more organic anything!

    I started to feel surprised and nervous. Would every goal attained by my two children fetch a reward? A high grade point average? A good class ranking? Would sports achievements be included in this reward system: soccer goals, touchdowns(橄榄球触地得分(, runs-batted-in(棒球打点得分(? What about orchestra(管弦乐团(? Would first chair pay more than second? I'd be penniless by eighth-grade graduation.

"We never paid anything for good grades," said my neighbor across the street, whose son was recently accepted at MIT. "He just did it on his own. Maybe once in a while we went out for pizza, but that's about it."

    Don't you just hate that? We're all running around looking for the latest electronic products, and she's spending a few dollars on pizza. She gets motivation; we get negotiation.