Okay, so this is fundamentally a blog about my life with kids, so why not start out with a children's story, or parable, per se. If you, like I, were a child of the 70s (or even earlier), you may have owned a beautifully illustrated Golden Book by Kathryn Jackson and Gustaf Tenggren entitled Tawny Scrawny Lion. You've probably heard the story before. A very scrawny, hungry lion never got enough to eat. As the tale goes, "He chased monkeys on Monday — kangaroos on Tuesday — zebras on Wednesday..." you get the idea. He caught everything he ran after but still couldn't get enough to eat. He should have been fat and happy, but fullness alluded him. Well, as the story goes, he meets up with a cute little rabbit with nine brothers and sisters, whom the other animals appoint to "talk" to the lion. The lion is happy as a cat (so to speak) in anticipation of the lovely rabbit dinner awaiting him. Instead, he is ultimately tricked by the clever rabbit to collect veggies and fish for the big carrot stew the rabbits make nightly. The lion only participates thinking he will be drawn to the bigger catch of all the rabbits, but finds himself more content than ever with the hearty stew and fellowship with his newfound friends. In the end, he doesn't even want to eat them. And after days and days of this new routine, he seems to have lost his very appetite for that which he had always longed for but never got enough. (If you think that I'm referencing this as a call for a vegetarian lifestyle, keep reading...).
Recently, I read a blog post that was circulating on Facebook called Give Me Gratitude or Give Me Debt, on Momastery. The blogger was ruminating on the subject of want, given that she had received lots of advice about how to "spice up" the kitchen that she loved so much. Her shout out to simplicity and contentment is refreshing, if even a bit startling in this era of Pinterest-worthy, must-have embellishments. Be thankful for whatcha got, plain and simple. But oh if it were just that easy. I can sit here and think of all the things I want that I don't have the money or the true need for... a bath renovation that will make my condo more "sellable;" a sliding back door on the deck that will make my kitchen more spacious; a lovely new rice cooker to replace the old (okay, so maybe that one wouldn't be so bad); a beautiful mid-century bureau to store all my kids "art stuff"; another iMac to replace the old one in the back we haven't bothered to see what is wrong with; and, of course, the holy grail... a house instead of the condo we have felt "stuck" in since the recession came along and knocked the promise of equity out of the ballpark. That one is the one that plagues me. That one is the one that hurts. We have so much, and yet, we feel we need more. City folks like us often face the dilemma of private school versus public school; house versus condo; renting versus buying. When we decided to make the tough, yet comforting decision to send our kids to a private montessori school, we, in turn, recognized the sacrifice we might make, having to forego that house with a yard and a garage and an extra room for Anu where we wouldn't be giving up the guest room and more space for all our "stuff" for a little longer. It meant that the minivan, our only car (which I'd love to replace in the spring when it is paid off, but that's another add to the list), would continue to look like a storage unit in the back, with all the bikes, beach chairs, strollers, you name it, that I don't want to be traipsing with up and down the stairs.
Some friends of ours recently sold everything they own, along with leaving the security of jobs, friends, schools, you name it, to go, with their two children, on a trip around the world for one year. Brave, some people say. Crazy, say others. I sit today in complete awe of them. Inspired to the core. When I was a child, I had a recurring dream. It must have been inspired by the story Stone Soup, because I would always be going around looking for things around me to put in a pot that would grow in immensity and flavor without much of anything except that which was simple and nearby. In the end, everyone would be amazed by what had been created out of, really, nothing. And I was the architect of that gold. I find it utterly ironic that stories like Stone Soup, my dream, and Tawny Scrawny Lion have stayed so fresh and bold in my imagination over the years; especially since I am nothing if not the complete opposite of those goals. I'm impulsive, reckless at times, wanting, materialistic, inspired by DIY, but ultimately taken in by West Elm and IKEA, a gatherer of way more than I need in body and soul. And yet I continue to dream of Stone Soup and the promise of what is achieved through creativity and simplicity. And how, really, everyone is more than a bit happier and ultimately fuller, in the end.