My crown is in my heart,
not on my head,
Nor decked with diamonds and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen:
My crown is called content:
A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.
– Henry VI
Don’t think I pulled THAT one out of the coffers of my memory bank, bereft as it is. I had an inkling to write about contentment, and last week one of my first waking thoughts was, ‘I wonder what William Shakespeare had to say about it?’ I kid you not. Thank goodness for the Internet – a wealth of information at your fingertips which can make you seem infinitely…well-read.
Some of the king’s words remind me of what a merchant shared with me in the tiny village of Sirince, Turkey in 2011. I have quoted him in a previous post: the problem with you Americans is that you think with your heads; we Turkish people think with our hearts.
Much of the battle regarding contentment rages in our heads (and oh, how we resist the leading of our heart, gut and intuition) We want bigger, better, faster. Then…we’ll be content. One of my best friends from UVA is a bastion of discontent actually. It’s likely because she is so much smarter, more capable and driven than I am. I’ve told you about Lee before, but here’s a tidbit I didn’t disclose: this woman makes the Tiger Mother look like a pussy cat on feline fentanyl.
I would venture to say that her triplets are already taking SAT prep classes, and they are not even twelve. I think she enrolled them in kindergarten before they were born. She invited me to visit her in sunny, southern California over spring break because, for one, she just bought another house. She wants me to see it before she changes her mind and moves AGAIN. I honestly do not remember how many homes she has purchased since leaving New York for LA. She no doubt remembers, and she’s going to write back and tell me 🙂
Recently I attended our real estate company’s awards ceremony where Casey Crawford, the president of one of the fastest growing mortgage companies in the country – one with whom we are affiliated – addressed us. He played for Super Bowl XXXVII’s champion, Tampa Bay, and described the clear vision of the newly hired coach who insisted on the 1st day of training camp that the Buccaneers were going to win the Super Bowl, not in several years but in that year. They did, and the taste of victory was sweet – his coach immediately expressed the desire to win again.
Not a surprising goal. Consider the likes of individual sports’ phenoms such as Lance Armstrong, Tiger Woods and Pete Sampras who stayed at the pinnacle of their game for an astoundingly long time. OK, I know what you’re thinking – in light of Armstrong’s current scrutiny, he’s not the ‘purest’ example.
The above are examples nevertheless of when ever-so-fleeting contentment eludes us because of what we covet for the future. There is also contentment that eludes us because of what lies in the past. Oswald Chambers puts it in a poignant way: The sense of having done something irreversible tends to make us despair. We say, ‘Well it’s all over and ruined now, what’s the point in trying anymore?’ If we think this kind of despair is an exception, we are mistaken. It is a very ordinary human experience. Whenever we realize we have not taken advantage of a magnificent opportunity, we are apt to sink into despair. But Jesus comes and lovingly says to us…’That opportunity is lost forever, and you can’t change that. But get up and let’s go on to the next thing.’ In other words, let the past sleep, but let it sleep in the sweet embrace of Christ, and let us go into the invincible future with Him.
I’m not suggesting that we abandon our goals, hopes and dreams for the future nor am I suggesting we bury the past. I believe we must bring the past, and quite often, the present into the light and wake up to ‘the full catastrophe’ – as per Jon Kabat-Zinn, PhD – before we can let it sleep or it will forever haunt us and, by extension, those around us. What I am proposing is that you ask in whom or what do you place your true identity as well as who or what ushers peace to your soul.
Ironically, achieving lasting contentment may mean facing head-on the source of your deepest discontent and taking action. Last week my precious daughter, Ellie, sent me a blog from the Harvard Business Review entitled ‘Fear Means Go’. The following philosophy of the author’s mother really resonated: she believed fear was a compass – an indicator of the direction you should go in if you want to become the person you have the potential to be. Gosh, isn’t that what we all want on some level? One of the prayers for my children, in fact, is that they will desire the life they were created to live.
Olympic runner, Eric Liddell, believed with all of his heart that he was created for a purpose. Do you believe that for yourself? Your children? Are you content, fulfilled, satisfied? If not, please consider C.S. Lewis’s logic in Mere Christianity: If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. In this same exceptional treatise Lewis, a former atheist, argues that humans are machines designed to run on God himself.
Does this notion, my friends, cause discomfort, doubt and, yes, even fear?
Good!
Now rise up and go.
– Caroline Watkins