We all say that some day things will change; we will take that vacation when we have more money or when we have more free time. When we have more confidence in ourselves, our job, our partner, we will be happy. When we get the new {fill in the blank}, we will be happy. We will have enough.
And yet I wonder – is that really the case? I look at my mobile phone and remember the feeling, just a few months back, when I was so excited about the convenience it would provide: faster reception, clearer connections, longer battery life; the smaller size was perfect for any purse. Yet today, I long for a newer model, a sleeker, faster version of this one. Each dropped call or slow connection to the net frustrates me and reminds me of its limitations.
The same is true of my house. It is so easy to focus on what is wrong with it and what needs to be repaired. A portion of the back yard is more weeds than grass. The half-finished flower bed needs to be finished. The closet door knob needs to be replaced so we don’t have to reattach one of the handles every week. The list is endless. Or is it?
At one time, I would have seen my current situation as only a dream. Had you asked me ten years ago if I would be satisfied with what I have and who I am today, I know what my answer would have been: Absolutely; I would be so appreciative. I would have more than enough. Who wouldn’t be happy?
Enough, at least in my world, is always something ‘out there’, and it exists in the future, without any sort of a boundary or frame of reference. It is not something we touch, much less remain in. It is an amorphous concept that we talk about as if it were real, thinking that when we get there or attain something, we will know it and experience satisfaction. And that little idea, which seems so very simple, puts us in perpetual forward motion. Like my cat chasing his tail, I am on a never-ending quest for ‘enough’, which will give me what I really long for: satisfaction, and peace.
I would be lying if I said that making my backyard into a showplace would give me more than a moment’s satisfaction. I would quickly find other things that needed to be done. More, better, faster – I have a lot of practice with those. I can measure them, touch them, see them. Once they are real, though, they become the new standard. Satisfaction and appreciation disappear as quickly as they appear. Sure, I can blame the advertising industry, our culture, the media, but that isn’t really fair. I am a human being, an adult, and I have a choice. I can choose to practice more, better, faster, or I can practice enough. And it all depends on the lens I look through.
I say that, because I know very well that there have been moments when I had enough, when I experienced satisfaction, and with it, peace and joy. When I reconnect with those moments, the current ‘feelings’ of not enough float away. One such moment was a few years ago as my husband underwent surgery for prostate cancer. When I think about that time, I can still connect with the visceral emotions I experienced that morning as I sipped coffee in the hospital cafeteria. My emotions were raw, and my thoughts raced through so many wasted opportunities,, arguments, choices, and decisions that separated us in one way or another. In that moment, any problems or imperfections, with him, our home, our relationship – even with me – melted away. I was focused on and appreciative for all the joys in my life, and it was enough. By focusing on what was good, I experienced satisfaction. When faced with the very real possibility of losing the love of my life, what mattered most became crystal clear. I had spent too much time looking through distorted lenses, focusing more on lack or gaps than on what and who really mattered. The heated arguments over undone household projects seemed petty and selfish. I vowed to take those distorting glasses off and leave them in that cafeteria. I would not let my lenses get cloudy again.
That does not mean, though, that I have given up ambition or the things I care about. Quite the opposite, in fact. By shifting my focus to what is important – to what I care about most – and the good that is all around me, the next action I need to take becomes more prominent. The path to ‘the me I want to be’ (thank you, Thomas Crum), the desire to serve, reveals itself as the fog of distraction lifts. When I stop, breathe, and reconnect to what I care about, my energy rises, and I am much more able to act in accordance with my values and desires. By first seeing the good, more possibilities exist. When I take the first step, then the second, and the third, my energy sustains me. Gratitude is the fuel for my soul, and keeps my vision clear.
Like any habit, though, those glasses have made their way back to me. Sometimes I notice, sometimes I don’t. I am learning that when my vision gets foggy and I feel drained of energy, I need to stop for a moment and take the glasses off and clean them. I stop, breathe, and look for the good. I pause, rest, and allow myself a short vacation in gratitude or silence. Voila – I see the world more clearly again. I see that I have so much good in my life, and I can experience the joy of satisfaction. I can recognize that more – with all its sultry promises – will never be enough. With a regular and consistent practice of just looking for the good instead of the gap, I can more easily reconnect with joy, peace and that wonderful sense of satisfaction on a more regular basis.
Hmmm…I haven’t yet practiced today. And I wonder, is it possible to ever reach a point where I have practiced ‘enough’ enough?
