Some say that people in the USA never think they have enough. An old friend once suggested an answer:
Too much is enough.
More money, up to a point, is enough, in theory, but we don’t fashion our lives in theory. We endure with jealousy, laughter, desire, hope, anxiety, joy, cheers, boos, toasts, dismissal, handsome and gorgeous companions, routine, exotic vacations, boring jobs, joblessness, and more.
The Roman Stoic philosopher, Seneca, said:
To be happy, you must eliminate two things. The fear of a bad future and the memory of a bad past.
He urged us to live in the only other available mental and emotional state: the moment, meaning this moment and every other one to come.
One can sometimes find peace by staying in the present. Perhaps this occurs in the stillness of meditation or when your mind is caught up in the flow of a task, a movie, a book, or a roller coaster ride.
The philosopher points out that we cannot change what is behind us. We therefore ought not to punish ourselves with the whip called regret, forever reliving the flogging of yesteryear.
A commitment not to repeat the mistake is essential before we place the strap in a strongbox to render it harmless.
The unknowable time ahead is the domain of Seneca’s other piece of advice. The future, he argues, creates more consternation than it deserves.
Nonetheless, the time ahead is inhabited by the catastrophizing balloon man who inflates our less serious concerns to the point of bursting.
A brief recollection of the many fears that did not come to pass can help reduce feverish, false, painful anticipation. An equal recall of having survived worrisome challenges offers the remembrance of endurance, a capacity still within us.
Another enemy of contentment is the sense that we are worth less than those we admire, leading us to compare ourselves to their achievements or the past and departed triumphs of our younger selves.
The road before us always forks, leaving one or more paths untraveled. Once down the chosen highway far enough, we come to recognize its imperfections.
The direction not taken survives, however, in an idealized form, existing in a fantastic unreality, fueling our lamentation over a decision impossible to undo.
We are left without enough, without the fulfillment our dreams urge us to realize. A necessary sober discovery informs us that the unchosen alternative is similar to the Christmas gift of which we would have tired within a few days.
Aging schedules a one-sided, unrequested meeting, delivering a progressive loss of capacities. We are not the hardy, risk-taking, fast-moving, limber, energetic, quick-thinking wizards of the early days.
The best solution is to maintain as many of our abilities as we can, accept what we cannot recover, and commit to what remains enjoyable and fulfilling.
The ghost of our past self must be dismissed, lest it rob us of our well-being in an unwinnable competition.
The philosopher and mathematician Bertrand Russell said this about expecting too much of life in our endless hunt for more, no matter what we already have:
The world is vast and our own powers are limited. If all our happiness is bound up entirely in our personal circumstances it is difficult not to demand of life more than it has to give. And to demand too much is the surest way of getting even less than is possible.
The man who can forget his worries by means of a genuine interest in, say, the Council of Trent, or the life history of stars, will find that, when he returns from his excursion into the impersonal world, he has acquired a poise and calm which enable him to deal with his worries in the best way, and he will in the meantime have experienced a genuine even if temporary happiness.”
Russell tells us to escape ourselves—diminish our self-preoccupation. As noted at the top of the page, many of us are born into expectations of success and the pursuit of it.
We need to move beyond the billboarded reminders of material things, palatial homes, the goal of writing books still read in 300 years, and wealth to place us in the 1%.
Better to listen for the quieter prompts to mend, contribute, and provide for what is needed elsewhere. Human and animal suffering remind us of those who are needier than we are.
A portion of what contributes to having enough is the beauty around us: the art, nature, painting, theater, ballet, poetry, and music.
Friends provide their own benefit, no less essential to a satisfying life.
Think too of the random smiles, those who serve us when we shop, the souls who cut our grass, and the graceful display of a young body swinging a baseball bat.
Don’t forget chocolate. There is never enough of that!
Kurt Vonnegut, the award-winning novelist, wrote the following poem on the subject of this essay, using his late friend, the famous writer Joseph Heller, to illustrate his point:
JOE HELLER
True story, Word of Honor:
Joseph Heller, an important and funny writer
now dead,
and I were at a party given by a billionaire
on Shelter Island.
I said, “Joe, how does it make you feel
to know that our host only yesterday
may have made more money
than your novel ‘Catch-22’
has earned in its entire history?”
And Joe said, “I’ve got something he can never have.”
And I said, “What on earth could that be, Joe?”
And Joe said, “The knowledge that I’ve got enough.”
Not bad! Rest in peace!
==========
At the top of the page is King Midas from Wonder Book, the work of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Arthur Rackham, 1922. It is followed by a Photo of an Old and Young Woman in Traditional Ukrainian Clothes, by Mikhail Kapychka. Both of these were sourced from Wikimedia Commons. A picture of Kurt Vonnegut comes just before a discussion of his poem in memory of Joseph Heller.
Thank you, Dr. Stein. Living a life of regrets is a waste of time. Instead, why not take each past experience and apply it to our lives now, so we don’t repeat previous mistakes?
I agree, Pete. Regret is can be useful if grieved once. It offers the opportunity to learn and change. When something positive is made of it, it frequently vanishes. Thank you, Pete.
Oh….this, this, this:
“The direction not taken survives, however, in an idealized form, existing in a fantastic unreality…”
So much truth and insight right there, Dr. Stein. Romanticizing the road not taken? I’ve seen that time and time again but you’ve captured the fault line perfectly in three words…”a fantastic unreality”. Yes, yes.
Thank you, friend.
Regret seems built into so many of us, Vicki, while others rationalize like crazy, always having an eraser at the ready to help them wipe away their own mistake, or blame someone else for their troubles. Glad you liked the phrase, Vicki. We shall always have some roads we didn’t take–decisions that made us wonder, “What if?” Thank you, as always.
Dr. Stein, thanks for this insightful and thought-provoking post. I think it’s a curse for one never to be satisfied, even when filled and overflowing with the material things that life offers. What emptiness!
Wise words from Seneca. My moments of great distress were usually the result of “fear of a bad future and the memory of a bad past.” As Russell suggests, I’ve found that diminishing my self-preoccupation is, indeed, the best way to escape these crippling fears.
You have learned an important lesson, Rosaliene. Few of us discover it, and fewer still learn it early. Hats off to you, my friend!
Thanks very much, Dr. Stein 🙂 <3
Oh, what a line from Joseph Heller. A true treasure when we know we have enough. Thank you for reminding us the joy that the nature around us can bring as well as the present moment. Beautiful ways to live!
I am glad you liked it, Wynne. There is a murderous treadmill aimed at “enough, if only I could get one more thing.” Of course, those who think this way never get off the treadmill.
Powerful poem, beautifully read by Helen Mirren. So many good points in your post, Dr. Stein. And of course, I agree with Seneca—the Stoics got that right. I often wonder why people choose to stay in the past. It hurts sometimes to hear members of my family talk about things that happened 50 or 60 years ago, reliving those moments and remaining stuck, unable to move forward. Could it be that it’s easier to stay in the past, so to speak, than to discover what’s new out there?
Glad you found Mirren who I never mentioned in the post. Yest, Tennyson captures Ulysses (Odysseus) after his return to Ithica and reunion to Penelope and his son. He still has the itch to return to a life of adventure.
Nostalgia sometimes brings comfort and the present sometimes is a painful time as one’s body complains and our friends die off, but you are certainly correct to point to the dangers of living in the past. Thank you, Edward.
You’re very welcome. She is one of my favorite female actors, so of course I had to watch the video with Colbert. I’m glad I did. Nostalgia, interesting. Do you think there might be some melancholy involved?
Certainly, melancholy. I had a very old friend who lived into his 90s and continued to make new friends almost to the end of his life. If one does not do this, life can get very lonely.
That’s very true.
I’ve often had people urging me to monetize my efforts in creating art, writing and even teaching art classes, and much to their dismay I resist their advice to push myself to get every penny I can out of my efforts. I did try to create a full-time income from those things, but the time and effort also pushed me to burnout, so now I’m happy to just do it for enjoyment. I know what my enough is and am happy in my lane.
We don’t have to be production machines, endlessly turning out product to keep selling whatever we’re selling. I’ve found that not only is it okay to dial the money fever down, but it also leads to a more enjoyable life.
Your last paragraph hits the bullseye, Tamara. There is a relentlessness to it that seems to be like some sort of curse we receive at birth. But, as many Europeans say of us, “In your country you live to work. In my country we work to live.”