“Felt good about a lot of things in general. A rare feeling.
I thought, hey, I’m studying, probably want to do that for quite some more time, I’m hanging out, party rocking, writing, doing a bit of earning, a bit of spending, is not bad. Life’s purty a-okay. And I liked it.”
For a while my head was divided between wanting to be”happy” and wanting to be “content”. I spent a large amount of my alone time pondering over which should be my goal and what it is that I should aspire to want out of life.
Stories of regret, of lives wasted, and of mistakes made, are abundant and I never wanted/want to be another tale of sorrow. In order to not make some mistakes, I’ve made others. Trying hard to avoid possible “what if” situations I’ve caused more harm, and more often than not, this pursuit of happiness/contentedness at some point involves being disgustingly selfish.
It’s been a long time since I’ve contemplated the pros and cons of the usually unreliable ‘what will make me happy’ verses trying to figure out if being content means inevitably compromising. Instead, I’ve been thinking about the future, but not so much in terms of measuring my life by emotions that are quantifiable, but with more concrete things: jobs (more so careers), finances, house, marriage and all that comes with what I associate with being “grown up”.
Yet with everyday that passes, I’m more and more aware of my limitations, of my lack of profitable and marketable skills, and no matter how many times I’ve been told not to worry, I find my brows angled at an attempt to solve upcoming complexities and I’m so caught up in being stressed that I realized I’m forgetting to enjoy the simple things.
Catching up with a friend, he phrased it so well, that life is pretty “a-okay” and that he liked it and then it dawned on me, it’s not happiness or contentedness I want to chase – they’re both temporary states like a pendulum’s sway, what I really want is balance.
I have a philosophy that is summed up in three words: Everything in moderation. But excess is so tempting, it’s so good at seducing us and we’re so prone to giving into too much. The act of balance in itself is such a difficult art form when the smallest thing (like a bad day at work, or a quarrel) leaves me wondering what the eff the whole point of our stupid lives are. Earlier today I briefly wallowed in negativity and thought about how meaningless my life currently is: I no longer get anything out of my job, I don’t do anything to contribute to the greater good, I’m not a good testament of what I believe, I’ve lost so many friends and relationships along the way and really, it don’t take much time to come up with a solid list of reasons why my existence is practically meaningless. And already, I’ve made it more complicated.
Moderation and simplicity seem so freaking easy, almost too easy,… but why is the act of balance so damn incredibly difficult?