The Art of Being Content

When we were first married, my sister (who isn't much more than a year older than I am) gave me a story for my wedding present. It told of a quest to find the happiest couple in all the land. Throughout the story, the seekers encountered those with many children who felt burdened, those who compared themselves to others, those who complained about a spouse for this reason or that, those with none or not enough children, and each one was unhappy. At last, after thinking that is was impossible to find this happy couple, the seekers encountered a small, poor, couple who considered themselves blessed above everything else. They were content with what they had.

The very simple moral of this story was the secret to a perfect marriage. It was wanting what you have while you have it. Early in our marriage I encountered many who were like those in the story, looking forward or looking backward discontentedly at what they didn't have, or comparing themselves to others. They were never happy for themselves, and they certainly weren't able to be happy for others.

I am always surprised at how easy it is to find those around me who are eager to see others unhappy and miserable, as if it would somehow bring them great satisfaction. I wonder if they realize how much peace comes in hoping for the best for others as well as for themselves. There is peace in knowing that you treated others with the kindness and love that they deserved, so that should you lose them at any moment, you may look back with no regrets.

Life is short, and we don't know what curve balls we'll get. Life is a continual waxing and waning of the tides, full of apexes and nadirs; giving at times, and then taking at times. There is magic in embracing what you have at the moment, seasoned with eternal hope: the pain, the happiness, the struggle, the sorrow. It is liberating. It is the very thing that makes us feel alive.