More, More, More

What is it that makes me, or anyone for that matter, want something More?  I have a quote in my office, within my direct line of sight that says “Be content with what you have; Rejoice in the way things are.  When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.”  I read it every day and see it every day and yet, I live my life with “buts,”  but if I had more money, but if I had more work, but if I had a more fit figure, but if I had a more opportunities to vacation, but if I had more…this bothers me.  Yet, it does not seem to bother me enough to STOP.

I want for nothing, really.  I live a life that by global standards is that of a queen;  Clean water, a stable shelter, food, transportation, friends, family, the ability to read and write, I have everything so what is this problem that I find I suffer with once or twice a year where I become totally despondent and empty and low and create this pity party, where one can not and should not, exist?  I NEED nothing MORE than what I’ve got.  I know this much is true.   I grew up in a home where the motto was, Happiness Wants What it Has…these words were branded into my gray matter for every day of my life at home, but often I feel that I am the only member of my family who just can’t seem to “get” it.   I could blame the weather, the early darkness this time of year, the lack of vitamin D, the inability to play outside…it is so cold and so gray and yet this morning, the sunrise was so magnificent, so big and orange and wondrous as it filtered through the cedar trees on the east side of my property…it was so magical that I had to take a picture…and I took a few, but alas, the iphone did not do it justice.  The sunrise needed an eye.

I’m quite sure that somebody who is blind might give ANYTHING to see what I saw for those several minutes this morning.  I am sure that somebody who is deaf might give ANYTHING to hear the laughter of children or the gentle sigh of a lover or even the deranged rooster that lives next door to me.  I am sure that somebody with no arms would give ANYTHING to push back the hair from her child’s eyes, wipe away her granddaughter’s tear,  or  hold her boyfriend’s hand.  I am sure of all of these things.

I think it is time for a writing break; I find myself to be morose of late, something of a “Debbie Downer” and a friend I used to have often told me that when I am content, everybody who reads my writing is uplifted and their souls feel better…I like thinking that a reader would feel light-hearted and uplifted from my words, so it is time to stop typing for a while I guess, until I get out of my self-induced slump.

I thought about my feelings last night, these nagging feelings of wanting something, so unspecific, unclear, and unnamed that I’m plagued by them, that I haven’t got.  The drummer boy was playing his guitar in the other room, and I love when he practices and probably thinks I am not paying attention, he does not seem to know that I hang on his every note and chord.  I was in bed, checking my email and he was playing, and my heart-felt so full and my life felt so full, and for many minutes I wanted nothing more than what I have.

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