I feel fairly centered these days and satisfied, too. Although, it gives me pause sometimes to write about it, because I know I’m running in a universe of people who are reasonably well off, and in some cases better than that. So, I can understand why someone with a harder life might say, of course you’re satisfied. Who wouldn’t be? And I would take their point.
I wonder how I’d be feeling if I was scrounging for a living? Probably not as well. Partly, because where would I have gotten the resources for the life saving medical work I’ve had. None of it’s free. And even if I had a home, what if I couldn’t afford to keep it up? And how would I get to work, because I probably wouldn’t own the car I just bought. None of that sounds conducive to satisfaction. It just feels grinding and hard.
What got me thinking about all this was something that happened yesterday. While going to the post office, I ran into a pool guy who works for a local company I’d never heard about. We talked. They’re affordable. And this spring I’ll have help getting my above ground pool ready for summer. It made me feel lucky. But when it came to writing about it, I realized that although it perfectly exemplified how well things were going, I also realized that to some people I might as well be writing about the new mechanic I’d just found for my Bentley. It felt a bit braggadocious and not even a little poetic.
