Good Enough

"Happy?" I ask. He smiles as if guilty of something but only says, "Heh," a kind of grunt with raised eyebrows, which I now know means "abbastanza," good enough, the highest degree of happiness he can allow himself to experience. Italians are suspicious of American exuberance.

Excerpt from Blood, Bones & Butter
by Gabrielle Hamilton

Hopefully we can all allow ourselves more.

 

Let Go

There is a mindset, I've noticed, that affects people of a certain age. There is a reluctance to cut off connections to others. A reluctance to press delete, trash memories, or start over. There is a tendency to hold tight to the good things, however dainty they may be. A tendency to treasure the safety net, cling to what's already there, and settle. This is a mindset of fear. It's the easy road.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm there, too, along with the rest who've been affected. Other times, I wonder which is more difficult: holding tight or letting go. And I don't always know.

Certainly it's no simple thing to build something in life; it's much simpler to destroy it all. But the question is: why? Why am I continuing to build? Or why am I throwing it away? Is what I'm doing worth it to me? Could it be? Am I wasting my life away by doing this?

As if determining what's right for me comes down to asking the right questions. Or perhaps I figure that if I stay on a certain road long enough, then I'll forget that there were other turns, other options, and unanswered questions.

What I do know is that I don't want to live my life ignoring fears. I want to face them. And if what I'm doing is mostly out of fear for the alternatives, then it probably isn't right.

I want to hold on to the good things, of course. I just want those things to be worthwhile. I'll still be afraid, but it'll be the kind of fear that translates into courage, the kind that makes me proud. I won't be holding on because I'm afraid of something else, but because this is what I want.

And if that's not how it is, then I should just let go.

 

Unbecoming

This year ... this year, I hope for less. I hope to be less, to tear down whatever it is that I've become and perhaps, in time, rebuild. This year, I want for only the smallest and simplest of enjoyments. Anything more would be too much.

I fear that I've become someone who's too negative, and I don't want to be that person. I want to bring relief to friends and family. I'd rather be a source of happiness for those that I care for. I want to make a point of noticing the things that I love more often than the things that I don't. I want to enjoy the littlest of things as much as I possibly can.

This year, I hope for less. But I think, in the end, it may be more fulfilling.