“It this all there is?” or The Best of Times, The Worst of Times
“It this all there is?”
This summer I was having a drink at a
new outdoor cafe in the neighborhood with my dear and lovely friend D., one of
the most physically and spiritually connected people I know, and this question
came up. Seemed that over a
home-cooked organic gourmet dinner, her friend S., out of the blue, had blurted
- unironically - the question, “So, is this all there is?” S. has the dreamy husband who adores
her (and does the cooking!), the mostly-perfect children, the great-enough job,
the cool address in coolest of cities on the planet. On paper, she appeared to have it all, living the life we
dreamed we were meant to live, and yet, well
-
D. herself was having some misgivings.
Seemed she was haunted by second thoughts about her relationship with her tall,
dark and handsome boyfriend of nearly three years and her upcoming trip to
Italy - three weeks in Roma, on the Amalfi Coast, Capri and Sicily – with him and
his family, because, well -
And I had just come off probably the
best nine months of work of my career, including several trips to the
Caribbean, a transatlantic cruise, and a month-long trip to Europe preceded by
four days frolicking in Paris. Not
to mention considerably less insanity and unpleasantness on the family and home
front than had become the norm for the last half-dozen years. Yet I too was
feeling antsy, out-of-sorts, unhappy, because, well –
“- well … Why am I not happy?
I mean, is this all there is?”
I know, I know. “Really?!? How spoiled, overpriviledged, out-of-touch, insensitive. Don’t you realize how good you have
it? Have you looked around, seen
how most of the world lives? The
privations, the humiliations, the desperation, the destruction, the dangers? How even people around you, your
friends and family, suffer on a regular basis, with real problems? Grown
up problems? Illness, children,
family dysfunctions, financial woes?
And you, by comparison, have it soooo easy. A charmed life.
Shame on you, really!”
I get it.
I too join the chorus, tut-tutting myself when I drift into
dissatisfaction with my myriad first-world problems. Before you rush to judgment, let me try to explain. First of all, this “is this all there is” query is not
an iteration of your run-of-the-mill garden variety middle-class “mid-life crisis.” That crossroad/(hopefully) temporary
insanity we’ve all heard about, read about; we’ve all known someone who’s gone
through or is going through one. When
we reach a stage in life at age 40.
Or 50. Sometimes even 30. When
all’s well enough, great-ish even, but not perfect. You have nearly everything you need,
but not everything you think you want. You feel that something’s missing. You’re losing more than you’re
gaining. Time’s slipping
away. You’re bored, uninspired,
listless. There’s always something
that evades you, remains frustratingly out of reach. Even your dreams-come-true
turn out to be not enough. So you
go a little crazy – buy a sports car, cheat on your partner with someone half
your age, have a (or another) kid, go on a drinking binge or drug “vacation” or
sweat lodge detox or ayahuasca vision quest or fasting/high colonic regime - to
try to recapture life’s wonder and excitement …
No.
This is not that.
A questioning or crisis of confidence
is not specific or restricted to mid-life. Young people, older folks, anyone during any other stage, we’re
all equally inclined towards dissatisfaction, discontent, listlessness,
questioning, yearning. When I think back to my high school days, college years,
20’s, 30’s and beyond, many things – most things! – weren’t right. Never
enough, never just right. A low
level discontent simmered just below the seeming-smooth silvery shining
surface. Never making enough money; never entirely comfortable when money
flowed to me. Never enough time;
never using time optimally. Never
truly confident in my romantic relationships; never truly comfortable being
single. Rarely doing work that
really moved me; living the dream and still feeling unfulfilled. Never the
perfect weight; either too thin on top or too big on the bottom. Something was always missing, somehow
lacking. Even when things were
pretty damn great, it was all too much – too much work, too many parties, too
much sun, too much fun. Too crazy,
too demanding, too intense, too tiring –
Never just right.
And these life crises of discontent
can grip us at any time. Even the
best of times. When, in your relationship, you start wondering, “if only s/he’d
do (fill in the blank), say (fill in the blank), buy (fill in the blank), go
(fill in the blank) …” Or you fret
that the freedoms of singlehood are beginning to wane, and wonder why a soulmate
has yet to appear, looks like s/he’ll never show up, and you begin to doubt
your worth, your future happiness … Or you wonder why you’re not unhappier
being single, why you don’t yearn for a family, children like you’re supposed
to … When you agonize that
your kids are growing up too fast/not fast enough, that you’re
overparenting/not spending enough quality time, that you’re spoiling them/not
able to give them everything they need … Then there’s work. When your
professional life looks perfect on paper, pays the bills and then some, but
leaves you feeling physically and spiritually bereft … Or your organization, job, boss and/or co-workers kind of suck, or you wonder if maybe it’s
you yourself who kind of sucks ...
Insert your worry or woe, complaint
or criticism here. Any and all
apply.
Paradoxically, on the flip side of the
coin of discontent lives the “Woe is me/Why me?” query, the default for most of
us. By far. Many of us spend most of our time in
this space of problems, complaints, discontent, overwhelm, frustration. Perfectly understandable when we’re
visited by one or more item/event on life’s infinite list of trials and
tribulations: We’re “let go” at work.
We’re left by a lover. A
child gets sick. An aging parent
begins to rapidly decline. We’re
felled by an accident or illness (and then another, and then another). Or terrorist attack or random shooting
or economic meltdown or natural disaster.
It’s the 21st century, and anything can happen –
Though usually we simply feel trapped
in the continual onslaught of ordinary and extraordinary challenges, the
day-to-day back-to-back mishagas of this life. As Rosanne Rosannadanna said, “It’s always something. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”
So we try to escape the pressure and pain
of the present by blaming it on the past, and stressing about the future. “Things would be sooooo much better, I’d
be sooooooo much happier, when I …”
“When I (fill in the blank – get married, have a family, get a divorce,
land/leave that job, win the lottery, graduate/go back to school, fix the
toilet, clean the closet, buy/sell the house, take a vacation, lose/gain 15 lbs…)
We know, we’re sure, we swear that all will be well, we’ll be happy at last, if
only ... if only. Until then, we suffer
– we worry, we fret, we panic, we wring our hands in distress. Perhaps we spring into action. We try to escape the discomfort
of desire for something else in so many ways. We look for solutions, develop a plan of action, strategies
to create the changes we want in our life. We close our eyes, make a wish and blow out the candles; we forward
money angels to 10 friends in 30 minutes. We medicate the discomfort away with
drink, drugs, distractions. Anything
to make it better, make the sick feeling of longing and fear and frustration
and helplessness and hurt go away.
Anything to escape the reality and pain and uncertainty of the moment,
the right here, right now.
My point? Be it the best of times or the worst of times, it’s all the
same, all symptoms of the same dis-ease:
the desire for things to be other than they actually are.
“Good” times, “bad” times, no matter. Young or old, in sickness or in health,
richer or poorer, in or out of a relationship, lucky or fortune’s fool, we
rarely are content, truly at peace with this moment, the way things are right
here, right now. We yearn for
something different, something other than all that we have right here right now
right at our fingertips. We want
more, less, bigger, smaller, brighter, darker, less expensive, more expensive,
thinner, fatter, sweeter, savory, spicier. We want something different, something else, someone new,
someone back. Perhaps this is just
human nature, our instinctive focus on what’s wrong rather than what’s right, what’s
missing rather than what’s readily available, sparking our desire for change,
to change, to move, to build, to improve, to grow. To buy. (Thank
you, capitalism, for exploiting our “we are not happy, we are not enough”
neuroses, and convincing us that only the purchase of this product or service
will make us worthy, will make us whole, will make us richer, will make us
lovely, will make life worth living!)
We tend to place value on what’s scarce, what’s unavailable, what’s
rare, dismissing the abundant and obvious -
Truth is, no one, nothing outside of
ourselves can or ever will be able to “make” us happy. (Or sad, or angry, or upset, or
whatever.) That power – to decide how to experience the world - belongs
exclusively to each of us. On
August 16th, 2016, The Universe® asked: Q: How do you find love, health, abundance, and
enlightenment?
A: Stop searching and start seeing
what's been there all along.* So
if you are ever fortunate enough to find yourself asking, “Is that all there is?” or miserable and wondering, “Why me? If only …” Take a deep
breath. Look around. Take account. Appreciate.
Give thanks. Because once
we open our eyes and hearts and minds to all that is here, right here, right
now, right at our fingertips, once we see the beauty and power of the present,
we will begin to understand the wonder and perfection of the moment. Filled with beauty and pain and love
and joy and work and awe and infinite possibility. You paint it whatever shade you choose. The present is indeed a gift! The most divine, perfect, unshakable
gift we will ever receive. One we
receive constantly, every moment of every day. When we operate from this position of appreciation and
faith, miraculous things are possible, even probable, and come to us tinged
with sparkling grace rather than shadowy angst.
“Is this all there is?” D. and I, after some soul-searching and
deep discussion, came to the realization that, “Yes, this is all there is. And it’s pretty f*cking cool ...” Now I think I’ll take a walk along the
river between the raindrops on this balmy afternoon, and drink in the
end-of-summer air. Right here, right
now.
©
2016 Tess Quadrozzi, A-Muse-In-Manhattan
*The
Universe TUT ©
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