The Whole Glass
Optimists and pessimists are typically described by their perception of a glass of water. There are two ways to look at it: do you see it as half-full or half-empty? Your answer is a metaphor for how you view life. All of it.
There are nihilists who not only see the glass as half-empty, but "it has a chip in it and if you drink it you'll get glass in your stomach and you'll die." And then there are those like me who have the opposite problem. I don't know what it's called.
The glass is not half-full. It's overflowing.
People always say to me: "Do you know how lucky you are?" They admire the creative abundance that is my home, my flexible time as a freelancer, my 12-year marriage to a man who does his share of chores, my ability to volunteer at the school and write an occasional draft of something passably interesting. YES! I know I'm lucky! Now can we stop talking about it so I can get back to juggling all these delightful balls?
The glass is not half-full, it's half the size it needs to be. I need a bigger glass! More money! More time! More space to absorb the friendships, the fun and entertainment, and the abundance that piles up in the corners! I need another parallel life to do the things my soul needs to do because my minutes are filled with helping my clients and cleaning this lovely old house and trying to remember what I promised to whom and playing with the beautiful dog and laughing with my funny husband and reading to my bright and shining son and trying to pay off that last trip to Disneyland.
The truth is, I should learn to say "no."
But I don't want to. I still want more. I want another baby. I want to remodel the house. I want to beautify the neighborhood. I want more and better work, which means more contacts with interesting people who send me email, more responsibility to finish things I've started, more pressure to hold my corner of the world a little higher. It's a special form of insanity, I suppose, not to know when to say when. But when will it be "when"? That's the question.
The answer? Perhaps when I feel like I'm in balance.
Balance. What is balance? Balance will come when there is enough momentum that big things take less effort and little things don't trip everything up. Balance is knowing I can handle what's coming next. Because this glass is me and there's a big pitcher--or perhaps a hose--that keeps pouring and pouring and I don't want it to stop.
There are nihilists who not only see the glass as half-empty, but "it has a chip in it and if you drink it you'll get glass in your stomach and you'll die." And then there are those like me who have the opposite problem. I don't know what it's called.
The glass is not half-full. It's overflowing.
People always say to me: "Do you know how lucky you are?" They admire the creative abundance that is my home, my flexible time as a freelancer, my 12-year marriage to a man who does his share of chores, my ability to volunteer at the school and write an occasional draft of something passably interesting. YES! I know I'm lucky! Now can we stop talking about it so I can get back to juggling all these delightful balls?
The glass is not half-full, it's half the size it needs to be. I need a bigger glass! More money! More time! More space to absorb the friendships, the fun and entertainment, and the abundance that piles up in the corners! I need another parallel life to do the things my soul needs to do because my minutes are filled with helping my clients and cleaning this lovely old house and trying to remember what I promised to whom and playing with the beautiful dog and laughing with my funny husband and reading to my bright and shining son and trying to pay off that last trip to Disneyland.
The truth is, I should learn to say "no."
But I don't want to. I still want more. I want another baby. I want to remodel the house. I want to beautify the neighborhood. I want more and better work, which means more contacts with interesting people who send me email, more responsibility to finish things I've started, more pressure to hold my corner of the world a little higher. It's a special form of insanity, I suppose, not to know when to say when. But when will it be "when"? That's the question.
The answer? Perhaps when I feel like I'm in balance.
Balance. What is balance? Balance will come when there is enough momentum that big things take less effort and little things don't trip everything up. Balance is knowing I can handle what's coming next. Because this glass is me and there's a big pitcher--or perhaps a hose--that keeps pouring and pouring and I don't want it to stop.
posted by Kristen Caven | 9:07 AM
1 Comments:
not a pitcher - not a hose - but an aqueduct
DC
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