Being Happy with What We Have
My book club is like a ladies social aid society. We could probably stand to talk about the books we read a little more and kick back glasses of wine a little less, but what we lack in literary pursuits we make up for in charitable, supportive works of friendship toward each other. It’s a barn-raising, neighborly sensibility in a city where some of us don’t know our neighbors’ names. Dogs have been watched so overdue date nights could be had, and they have shown up unexpectedly to movie premieres, just to be there in the audience laughing. Most recently, a few of us were present at the momentous occasion of painting a new apartment. Many hands make for light work, and as I washed the pale blue paint off my hands in the kitchen with a window (my dream!) and a view over church spires and turrets, I felt that old familiar pang. Envy, be thy name. (And I promise, this is a slightly different breed than what we talked about the other week.)
I love my apartment, of course. But I rent it, and it doesn’t have roof access or a separate room that could be made into a library and reading nook. I won’t be hanging wallpaper anytime soon or making significant investments to the space in the form of a handsome sink or better lighting fixtures. “I can’t help but feel a little jealous,” I confessed to M, as she fished a Dorito out of crinkly bag. She looked at me with the sort of rectitude that would make her a wonderful character in a Barbara Pym novel and said, I’m trying this new thing––I’m paraphrasing––of being happy with what I have.
(Seriously, if I didn’t have friends saying wise things to me, who knows what this blog would be about.)
It reminded me of that old saying: Happiness isn’t a matter of having what you want, but wanting what you have. And a line from a Marie Howe poem that echoes in my head again and again: “we want more and more and then more of it.” How powerful would it be to stop wanting and to start delighting, to shirk off that hunger for “more and more and then more of it,” and instead, be grateful for all of it, as it is, now? Like, for instance, the way I can see the full moon from our bedroom window, or the view from my table as I write this of school kids buddied-up and holding hands as they file down the sidewalk. Our lives have plenty of charms, just as they are.
And I’m not just talking about material stuff. I’ve been thinking lately about intimacy and comfort versus the excitement of the new. Perhaps this is what happens when you pass your first wedding anniversary. For awhile, I was lamenting the bygone era of flirty posturing in low-lit bars, displaced by couch-side dining, watching The West Wing and slurping down peanut noodles. For all my homebody tendencies, you might think I would prefer the latter. But the truth is, there is a part of me still entranced by the beginnings of things, that heady flurry of excitement and unknowns; when you’re still known for only your best parts. I’m always asking at restaurants, when I see a couple in the corner looking nervous and as if they’re trying just a little too hard, “Do you think they’re on their first date?”
Why does it seem sometimes, a friend of mine wrote to me in an email once, that it would be easier to start over than to dig in deeper where we are? It’s a tendency many of us have to want to start from scratch even at the risk of throwing the baby out with the bathwater. But there have been many reminders to me lately that all the exciting posturing of the new is not only illusory, but always, always, vanishing.
I hope it’s maturity setting in, but I’ve been newly convinced of the beauty of digging in deeper, of building something that can last through the real turmoil of living: knock-down, drag-out fights, the devastation of death and taxes, and more trivial bumps, like those smack-between-your-eyes blemishes. As they usually do, these lessons came to me in the form of the people around me (who would probably be creeped out to know how closely I’m watching them). There was my friend who showed me pictures of the house she bought with the man who, after all these years, is still her favorite Mortal Kombat opponent; a husband who hears you’ve had a prototypical Monday and surprises you with dinner, no questions asked; and even my book club friend, standing in an empty living room, save for a husband and couple friends, with paint streaked across her cheek in her first we-own-it! apartment. It’s not the flash of a new dress or a first kiss or clicky heels on a midnight sidewalk or ice clinking in a glass. It’s a bass drum instead of cymbals; it’s understanding all there is to know about someone, good and bad, both. It’s not having to explain who you are and what you need, from friends and lovers alike. It’s them being in deep with you and loving it that way.
Old Love, Young Love postcard available on Etsy
martha: wow. lovely. and YES. and for me, emphasis on “trying”. being happy and present with what I have is an everyday kind of challenge, but love and good friends makes me feel it is possible. love your writing, my dear, as always. thank you this!1 year ago
Annie Hall: To be happy with what we have and to delight in the ordinary charms of daily life is one of the great secrets to happiness. Thanks for the reminder Miss Sarah. Your prose is always a genuine pleasure to read.1 year ago
Ella Pretty: I love this sentiment…it’s easy to always be on the lookout for the next best thing – instead of appreciating all the unique and amazing things you already have.
One of my favourite qualities to cultivate is gratitude – there is so much in my life that I’m blessed with, and that I appreciate. Ambition serves an important purpose, but it can be dangerous if it keeps you moving so fast that you never get to enjoy the rewards of your hard work.1 year ago
Jen: AMEN! I nodded along all the way through this when I wasn’t re-reading sentences just for fun. It’s so nice to have someone else reveal this roller coaster ride we all take over and over again! It’s a strange and wonderful time in life I think, when we start to realize our patterns and to purposefully look for the ordinary charms all around us, and to know our selves and our loved ones beyond the surface. Tough and dirty work laced with laughter and beauty. Thanks for the great post.1 year ago
Thanks, martha–for all of it!
Annie Hall, I want to write this out and chant it to myself every day: “To be happy with what we have and to delight in the ordinary charms of daily life is one of the great secrets to happiness.” Thanks for that!
Ella Pretty, such a fantastic point about ambition! Striving to get ahead does sometimes get in the way of us just being able to enjoy where we are.
Jen, “Tough and dirty work laced with laughter and beauty.” What a perfect way to put it.1 year ago
BethP: oh Sarah, I was just thinking this morning about how your writing shines in your more introspective posts–I think they are your very best. You manage to articulate so beautifully the things we all feel. Comparing myself with others and feeling like I’m coming up short is something I struggle with constantly–thank you for the reminder to recognize that what I have is pretty great. xoxo1 year ago
Kanesha @www.itsafullnest.com: I got a bit teary reading this. I often feel like the routine of my life can be dull and dreary – but then I love the comfort and stability. I actually have time (when I consciously take it) to stop, be present, and enjoy.
My great friends and loving family help with that – as they keep saying SLOW DOWN!
A sweet friend sent this article to me:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/26/health/26essay.html1 year ago
anne: This was a beautiful post. Thank you for being so honest. I can definitely relate… especially the part about how it would be easier to start over than to dig in deeper where we are… something to think about.1 year ago
Sara: That was beautiful, and just what I needed. Thank you.1 year ago
Ana @ Confessions of a Designer: Loved this post Sarah! So many times we forget to appreciate what we have. I think sometimes we get caught up fantasizing about other people’s lives, because we see something good or something we wished we had, and all of a sudden we think their whole lives must be that perfect too! As it turns out, I’ve found out many times, they have horrible things going on in their lives as well. And suddenly mine looks pretty darn lovely. I’m healthy, I have a great family, I’m in love with a really great guy who loves me to bits too, and I have a bright future ahead! God has blessed me many times over. So life is not perfect, but it’s Good!1 year ago
Alison: I’m jealous of how your living room has views of trees and when you open the windows in the summer, you feel like you’re part life, with little noises and breezes.1 year ago
Evon T.: Sara, you could not have said any of this better! I’m also one of those that love the excitement of the “new”. The euphoria of being swept up by the unknown of a new acquaintance ( I think it’s an Aries thing). I wonder if I can live next door to my future husband (lol!), then perhaps everything would still feel fresh and new. Again, that’s a laugh-out-loud-statement, though not completely unrealistic. Peace and love Sara!!!1 year ago
Kishori: i loved this post!
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Maryanne @ www.minimumwageprosperity.org: I love this! After 20 years of marriage, my BFF is still the man I sleep with every night. The new is so exhilarating, but the comfort of the familiar (I will NOT say “old”!) is sweet like honey!1 year ago
Thanks, BethP. I wish I could write a post like this everyday, but alas, I seem to get introspective about once a week. Ha!
Kanesha, I loved that article! Thanks for the link.
Glad it gave you something to think about, Anne. Thank you for reading!
Sara, You’re welcome, lady!
Ana, So true––I really suffer from Grass is Greener Syndrome. Someone wants told me about a little trick for that. Whenever you feel envious of some element of someone else’s life, you have to think about taking on ALL of their life, too. No picking and choosing aspects. That usually helps me feel fine sticking with what I’ve got.
Alison, Yes, I love that about my apartment, too. But I’m jealous that your apartment has a claw foot tub and a shipman’s window on the swinging kitchen door so we’re even.
Thanks, Kishori!
Well said, Maryanne! And that is so wonderful for a newlywed like me to hear.1 year ago
Lisa (dinner party): Beautiful writing, beautiful sentiment.1 year ago
DesigningDiva: What a great topic! I love the newness of things because it feeds my appetite for adventure (again, an Aries trait!), but I also love to sit back and just enjoy my everyday life, which, upon reflection, is really filled with wonderful moments to cherish. Sometimes it’s just the little things that can make you truly realize how blessed you are in life. It’s like the title of the Hallmark movie “The Magic of Ordinary Days.” The best days are often those spent hanging around the house with my husband, feeling cozy and comfortable and just plain cherished by the one I love!1 year ago
Tori: What a wise post! I am so constantly tempted to start over from scratch, and I thought it was only me who felt that way, but I’m SO GLAD to hear that I’m not the only one. I kind of equate the feeling with our culture’s obsession with juice fasts–it sounds so wonderfully purifying and renewing, but it’s actually detrimental.
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Elizabeth: Can I just say that I love that Marie Howe poem too? How much do you want to be her best friend!? Lovely post, friend
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Amanda: I just wanted to say that your writing never ceases to amaze me. I just had my third wedding anniversary, and am “dug in deep”. I will be using this phrasing henceforth; I hope you don’t mind.1 year ago
It’s all yours, Amanda!1 year ago
michelle marlahan: Gorgeous. Really. And thanks for the Howe poem – what a treat! Happy weekend.1 year ago
Becky: What lovely writing. “It’s a bass drum instead of cymbals…” You made me smile and reflect.1 year ago
amanda: Goodness. Twists and turns brought me here and I am beyond grateful for your beautiful words. Twelve years married, four kids, and I dream of the adventure, the excitement, the crispness and bite of the “new”. I fear I’ve doomed myself to a life of staring out windows…
Your words beyond resonated with me. I’m going to print out this post and read and re-read. Thank you, thank you.1 year ago
Antonia: What a great way to start the day! Thank you so much for sharing these thoughts with us.It is so important that we focus on moving forward with this outlook on life.
I’m sure to reflect on this again a time or two in the future.1 year ago