It's not Having What you Want…

We enjoyed a fish din­ner at our neigh­bors this week­end. The wall­eye fish­ing has been great on Bull Shoals Lake. We haven’t been out on the water yet this spring (rainy week­ends, a boat that needs bat­ter­ies, expired fish­ing licenses). We catch and release but our friend, Fred, eats his bounty.  We were lucky enough to have been invited to their home on Saturday night to cel­e­brate his good fish­ing and our good for­tune for Dale’s job.

I read the fish­ing will be good on Bull Shoals for at least three years, as the fish have had plenty of time to replen­ish due to mass flood­ing in 2008 and The Great Recession in 2009 that kept locals from buy­ing gaso­line for their boats and “out­landers” or “Yankees” (as the true locals call vaca­tion­ers) from vis­it­ing the Tri-Lakes region last year.

During our visit to Fred and Rae’s we started one of those hypo­thet­i­cal con­ver­sa­tions about money. You know the “What would you do if you had xx $$ or won the lottery.”

Our con­ver­sa­tion was focused on hav­ing enough to just be com­fort­able, not a $25 mil­lion lot­tery win.

I said we would def­i­nitely fin­ish Dale’s garage into his dream man cave and I might splurge on a cou­ple of Dutch doors, the kind I’ve always wanted, but were way above  the door bud­get when we built The Little House. Finally, we would def­i­nitely replen­ish and pad our retire­ment fund so we could spend our days float­ing on this beau­ti­ful lake.

That’s it. I couldn’t think of any­thing else.

And put your addi­tion onto the house, right?” Rae added.

That had been our goal; first it was adding a large addi­tion to accom­mo­date a fam­ily room upstairs and an office area down­stairs. We then scaled back our wants to just adding six feet to the front of the house, extend­ing the bed­room and liv­ing room.

Now I real­ize that isn’t even a blip on the radar, which is a pretty far leap from three years ago when I insisted I could never live full-time in 480-square-feet.

No. I don’t think so at this point. We have what we need and I have what I want to have to main­tain,” I replied.

A wave of hap­pi­ness washed over me, as it was at that moment I real­ized that I’m truly content.

In the song, “Soaking up the Sun,” Sheryl Crow sings, “It’s not hav­ing what you want.  It’s want­ing what you’ve got.”

When you truly real­ize you do want what you’ve got – and that it’s enough — it is like soak­ing up the sun. Now if the 7-day rains would stop here (rainy days and Mondays have been every­day here and it feels as if we could float away), I could phys­i­cally feel it too!

Do you think our soci­ety, which always seems to be striv­ing for more and big­ger, robs peo­ple of that eupho­ria of contentment?

20 Responses to “It's not Having What you Want…”

  1. I think this applies to actions as well as $$. People love to talk about how busy they are, like busy is the new rich, but most days, espe­cially now with duel­ing elder­care wor­ries and other real-life things, I'm try­ing hard to focus on "enough" and not much more.

    Sometimes, you can only do what's in front of you and need to for­get the rest … at least for a spell.

  2. As to your ques­tion at the end of the post — yes, yes, yes. American soci­ety idol­izes peo­ple who are hard work­ers, ambi­tious, always want­ing more, etc. And that's not all bad … but it also means there's no "enough," and life with­out enough is awfully drain­ing and unsatisfying.

  3. Bec says:

    After get­ting mar­ried in 2007, my hus­band and I bought a 700-square foot house. It was our starter home or so we thought. Three months later, I was unex­pect­edly preg­nant with twins. Then the econ­omy col­lapsed and sell­ing the house was sim­ply not in the cards. My hus­band lost his job and found a new one nine months later, just three weeks before I lost mine. We've really adjusted the way in which we live, much for the bet­ter. We love this lifestyle.

    I love your blog and writ­ing style. :)

    • Welcome to Living Large, Bec! Isn't it great when you real­ize you don't have to keep striv­ing to "Keep up with the Joneses?" by going larger? Would love to hear more about your life in your lit­tle home, espe­cially with those twins!

  4. Bj says:

    My par­ents don't under­stand why I ever bought my lit­tle cabin and acreage. Yes, I plan on adding one room (hope­fully this sum­mer) to make it a bit big­ger, but no where near the "small houses" my par­ents love. Their idea of small was down­siz­ing last year from 9200 sq ft to 3000 sq ft. There is only myself and my won­der­ful com­pan­ion (four legs and furry!). I surely don't need any­thing that huge. I find I am hap­pi­est when I have sim­pli­fied life. When I have excesses, I tend to expect more of the same, yet when I go to the extreme of sim­plic­ity, then I am happy and con­tent. So cur­rently I am good with the 290 sq ft cabin. After this sum­mer, I hope to have it nearly 450 sq ft.
    As for money, riches? Nah, some­one else take them please!

    • Wowsa, 9200 square feet? That's larger than some man­u­fac­tur­ing plants around here! :) I don't want to be famous and I don't want to be greedy. But to have enough money to be com­fort­able in our Little House, to do what­ever we like for the rest of our lives. I'll take it. :)

      • Bj says:

        My par­ents are depres­sion era babies, and they saved and scrimped all their lives. The 9200 sq ft was the largest…each one they moved to got big­ger even after we were all grown and gone. Dad is retired AF Officer, and as such has enough to see them through retire­ment in com­plete com­fort.
        I am happy for them, but grow­ing up in the big is bet­ter lifestyle set me up for some prob­lems as a young adult. I mar­ried a two striper whose monthly pay equaled my mom's monthly shop­ping trips.…LOL..BIG adjust­ment! After divorce, more adjust­ment, and like I said, I have come to find sim­plic­ity is where I am the hap­pi­est.
        Counting the days til I get to my lil cabin this sum­mer! 7.5 days left til school, then two weeks of manda­tory phys­i­cal pres­ence in grad school-the rest will be online, then off to the cabin I come! WOOT!

  5. MarthaandMe says:

    I feel happy in our home, but my mother thinks it is tiny and can't imag­ine how we stand it. Buying this house was a dream come true for us and I'm still in love with this house, so I feel pretty happy with it.

  6. mollie bryan says:

    I grew up in a tiny mobile home and yet now that I live in 1,000 square feet with my hus­band and 2 chil­dren, I am always wish­ing for more space. I find it's a con­stant read­just­ing and remem­ber­ing who we are, what we want to accom­plish for our­selves and our children.

  7. Phillis Godwin says:

    Loved the arti­cle. As I age I find I've had just about every­thing I could have ever wanted and more. Now it's all about down sizing.

    • I agree, Phillis. I just spoke with a cer­ti­fied finan­cial plan­ner about get­ting back on your feet after unem­ploy­ment for an arti­cle I'm writ­ing. she said if one good thing comes out of this reces­sion it is that peo­ple will remem­ber that they learned how to live with less. I know that's a les­son we've learned! :)

  8. Tami says:

    I absolutely believe that soci­etal pres­sures have robbed peo­ple of con­tent­ment. The ball seems to really have started rolling after WWII. Recently I was tour­ing Cades Cove (Smoky Mountains) with my lit­tle ones. I imme­di­ately was hum­bled at the size of homes that fam­i­lies lived in. We've been liv­ing in a 1200 sq ft house for 2 1/2 yrs and then 2 yrs prior to that. It's always been more than enough for us and yet I've caught myself in the "well, when they get big­ger I'll have to seper­ate them (boy and girl) and then what do I do? Just 1 more small area would be nice." I had con­vinced myself that I was still not like "them". Consumers. I'd com­pare myself and our home to the mass size of oth­ers. In the world of today 1200 sq ft is small. In days gone by it would be quite com­fort­able. I've changed my think­ing. It's all a mat­ter of being com­pletely con­tent and thank­ful for that which I do have. For real­iz­ing that hap­pi­ness, eupho­ria, con­tent­ment doesn't come in the amount of stuff I have, the size of stuff I have or the price of the stuff I have. It comes in the thank­ful­ness for the bless­ings of what I have. Thankful that I'm blessed to have a roof over my children's head. Thankful that I have an abun­dance of food. Thankful for the beauty of nature that is shared with me. With all of this, I find con­tent­ment. I let out a big, cozy sigh.

  9. kerri says:

    I think those of us who had Depression era par­ents and were treated to sto­ries of that being some of the best times of their lives, really couldn't com­pre­hend what they were talk­ing about, Alexandra. To know that true feel­ing of being con­tent with not only what we have, but appre­cia­tive of the love in our lives. At least I couldn't until just recently. I think we spend our lives striv­ing for big­ger homes, more stuff, faster cars, etc. I wish I could tell my mother now that I under­stand what she meant.

  10. Alexandra says:

    Our con­sumer soci­ety, you mean. Yes, of course. We don't need all the stuff we are made to feel as if we can­not do with­out. My nephew, who grew up with less "stuff" than my kids, seems way more con­tent with what he has.