WSJ in a story today reports on the boom in the American market for Bibles. Apparently Bibles like personal computers have become customized personal products. To quote:

” "For a long time the Bible was just the Bible," noted Kevin O'Brien, director of Bibles at Tyndale House. "You put it out there and people bought it. They didn't ask about the options, because there weren't any options. But now, especially in evangelical circles, people are seeing their lives not just in color but high-definition color, and they want the Bible to fit in with that. This is not your mother's Bible."

Thus, following the gospel of Seventh Avenue, publishers are displaying their wares in the season's hot colors. "This year alone I've seen four shades of purple," said Ms. Love, whose stores have also done well with two-tone Bibles. The pink and brown model has been particularly popular. Bibles are also available in the colors of your college, with a fur cover, a flower-patterned cover, and to appeal to young adherents, with a camouflage cover, a metal cover and a duct- tape cover. Next spring Tyndale House will be bringing out a paperback Bible in a plastic case that looks like a flattened Nalgene bottle”

I think my modest library has two Bibles, a nice leather-bound King James Version and a pocket-sized Gideon, both gifts, and both of which happily mingle with other “holy” books such as the Koran, Bhagavad Geetha etc. But I am now wondering if I should go out the nearest Christian bookstore, and buy one done up in Amar Chitra Katha style. Being the blasphemer that I am, in such a version I imagine Jesus would dance the bangra after kicking the moneylenders out of the Temple, and the last supper’s menu would be composed of naan, butter chicken, and bottles of Kingfisher beer.

Moving on to a topic related to the “spirit”, happiness, another WSJ story had this to offer:

Limiting options. Having lots of choice might seem like a good thing. But in fact, it can lead to unhappiness. Consider a study conducted by professors Jane Ebert and Daniel Gilbert. Participants were allowed to choose an art poster to take home. Some were told that, if they didn't like the poster, they could exchange it for another. Others were told their decision was final. "Who was happiest with their choice?" asks Prof. Gilbert of Harvard University. "Those for whom the choice was irrevocable. When options are open, the mind generates debate. When options are closed, the mind generates satisfaction.” This insight spurred Prof. Gilbert to limit his own choices. "It made me realize that I ought to propose to my girlfriend," he says. "Sure enough, now that she's my wife, I'm happier."

I personally would like such a happiness study run on a sample of “relationships” based on categories that might include “love” vs. “arranged” marriages; “liberal” vs. “conservative” views on male-female roles, and on divorce etc. I have a hunch that data points that fall in the latter category might report higher levels of “happiness”. This because I think, based on my personal experiences, there is a significant correlation between the “options” (or “features”) people desire in their “romantic” partners and the degree of happiness they might experience from such relationships.

Becoming enlightened in this area, I think, primarily consists of learning to arrive at a necessary set of well articulated and measurable options – not too large, not too small, and to take everything else that might fall outside this set as a gift. While I have been accused on having very utilitarian views towards romance (with the associated bafflement as to how I can write verse given such views!) because requiring options to be “measurable” kicks fuzzy stuff like “chemistry” out of this absolute basic set. Doing this would, perhaps, lead to happier outcomes.

I wake up my car; pollen covers the windshield. I put my dark glasses on. The bird songs all turn dark.

Meanwhile someone is buying a paper at the railroad station not far from a big freight car reddened all over with rust. It shimmers in the sun.

The whole universe is full.

A cool corridor cuts throught the spring warmth; a man comes hurrying past describing how someone right up in the main office has been telling lies about him.

Through a backdoor in the landscape the magpie arrives, black and white, bird of the death goddess. A blackbird flies back and forth until the whole scene becomes a charcoal drawing, except for the white clothes on the line: a Palestrina choir.

The whole universe is full!

Fantastic to feel how my poem is growing while I myself am shrinking. It's getting bigger, it's taking my place, it's pressing against me. It has shoved me out of the nest. The poem is finished.

Translated from the Swedish by Robert Bly