In seeking satisfaction, it helps to explore a broad spectrum of human potential. To use Ken Wilber’s language, we can look at multiple “lines of development,” such as material security, emotional bonding, and spiritual realization. Our relationship to each of these important currents in life grows through relatively definable stages. For instance, our attitude toward material acquisition might start with concern about our own sensual pleasure, then extend to wanting to provide for our family, and then mature to a calling to do our part to help a world in need. Similar stages can be mapped for emotional and spiritual growth.
In the last post, I repeated one of my favorite Daoist quotes: “He who knows he has enough is rich.” It’s impossible to say exactly how Lao Tse meant this (especially since some authorities think he was a mythical sage, so we can’t even be sure who created the aphorism), but we can apply it in all three spheres defined above, and others as well. It’s clear how the saying helps as we evaluate our material situation, but let’s consider how it might fit with emotional and spiritual life.
We know interpersonal attachments are often as necessary to human happiness as food, clothing, and shelter. But how many relationships are enough? We see a wide range in society: from loners, to couples who rarely socialize with others, to sensitive souls with a few close friends, to bighearted people with many loved ones, to the highly gregarious who have huge numbers of acquaintances but few deep relationships. In each of these cases a person might or might not be satisfied, depending on their personality and their attitude.
As always, I can express this most clearly with a personal anecdote. In the past I criticized myself because of my very small social circle. Although I’d try to excuse myself by remembering how much abuse and neglect I suffered in childhood, there was no escaping the reality that I tend to isolate. Innately shy and highly sensitive, I’ve usually found it easy to build lasting romantic attachments, but hard to form friends outside that intimate bond. I’ve been with my wife for twenty years, which I count as an accomplishment, but until recently I enjoyed few other friendships. When you consider that we both come from very small families, that our parents have died, and that we have no children, nieces, or nephews, you can begin to see why I felt like a social failure. As I entered my fifties and contemplated old age, I began to fear ending up elderly and all alone. I envied my acquaintances who’d had children and now enjoy the satisfaction of watching their offspring blossom into adults. It was easy to imagine them in the future as happy grandparents, and myself as an isolated ancient.
A few things helped rescue me from this neurosis. A first step was a bit of reality testing: I began to see how having children in this society is no guarantee against loneliness and struggle in old age. It was even more helpful to recognize that my ability to endure (and even benefit from) hardship and loneliness is much greater than I once believed. Many times in recent years I’ve settled into deep sadness without panicking, whereas in the past I’d have run to a psychiatrist for an antidepressant. I’ve found a kind of melancholy serenity during those times. Even if my ‘golden years’ are spent in isolation, there’s a chance I’ll embrace the same soulful peace that helps me through the dark epochs now.
So I’ve changed my assessment of my social circle. It may be small, but it feels like enough, at least for now. I no longer feel desperate for more connections. As a result of my increased confidence, I’m finding that it’s now easier to make friends. Ironically, once I felt contented with my tiny social circle, it began to grow. If recognizing that I had enough social contact to survive made me rich, then I also learned that the rich get richer. We often encounter this lesson first in the romantic sphere: nothing is more unappealing than a desperate date, and nothing more alluring than a warm, serene, confident one. But the principle generalizes to all social interaction. If we approach others with a sense of contentment, we’re better liked than if we exude neurosis.
Before closing, I’ll briefly bring this reasoning into the arena of spiritual development. Until I began my quest for metaphysical clarity twenty-four years ago, growth in this area meant nothing to me. But once I started to reap the benefits of a few awakened moments, I wanted more. As I further matured, so that even in ordinary life it became possible for me to connect with the calm, light center of my heart, I found myself wishing the connection were more robust and continuous. Growth was happening, but because the very process of opening highlighted how much of me remained closed, it was tempting to feel discouraged. Then, fortunately, I recognized that humans seldom complete the task of cosmic realization. At every stage short of eternal transcendence, there is opportunity for further maturation. Once I understood the spiritual path to be endless, I felt satisfied with my current level of development. It’s important to emphasize that I still want to awaken further, but I don’t need more attainment to be comfortable. I’ve found enough peace to feel contented.
Which brings me back to where I ended last time: contentment is about appreciating where we are right now. It does not mean abandoning plans for further progress. Live brightly today, but build an even better tomorrow.
In their comments, readers noted that my last post focused mostly on material and career development. The fact that I treated those realms first is probably a consequence of my history as a (previously) overachieving American male. But even as I penned the last essay it was clear to me that much of importance was being left out. Such is the nature of blogging: you can’t cover everything in a single entry. I hope today’s post has succeeded in expanding the discussion into areas arguably more important than career and physical comfort.
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