Our
two-year old grandson, Carter is in daycare while his parents work. He is learning
yoga, sign-language, the alphabet and is being potty-trained among the other
learning activities that the program provides. One of the first signs Carter
learned was the one for “more”, meaning he wanted more food. Now Carter likes
to eat. He always has. Thus, as concerned grandparents, one being a very
health-conscious nurse, we were afraid that he would put on too much weight.
We
needn’t have worried. Yes, Carter did sign for more (he now simply asks) when
he wanted more, but he also shook his head and waved his hands when he had
eaten enough. He knew when he needed more to fill his stomach and he knew when
he had had his fill. He still does. I wish I had learned that lesson at
Carter’s age. It’s still a lesson I all-to-often forget when it comes to food.
Don’t
we all? We seem to want more and more and more and, at the same time, never
know when we’ve had enough. That is true not only when it comes to filling our
stomachs but in all of life. We live in a society that screams out to us that
we can never have enough, that we can always use more, that, in fact, we do
need more – more of whatever it is that has our attention at the moment.
Worse,
still, is that when we have accumulated more than we ever need, we have a very
difficult time letting go of some of it to share with those who need what we
have but, in truth, no longer need because we already have enough, truly more
than enough. The solution to the problem, once we understand that having more
will never be enough and that chasing after more and more, is to let go of the
chase after more before the chase even begins.
That
is difficult, again, not only because of the society in which we live that
tells us that more is better and society will think better of us the more we
have, but also because we enjoy the pleasure that comes from the attaining of
more, whatever that more is. It is a double-edged whammy. We fight the exterior
forces that tell us we need more and the interior forces that give us pleasure
in having more.
My
hope for Carter is that he has already learned that when he really needs more,
he will get more and that when he knows he has had enough, he will not ask for
more. That lesson, once learned and made part of his life, will serve him well
throughout the rest of his life. Unfortunately it seems to be a lesson we only
learn as we enter the later stages of our lives almost when it is too late to
do us much good.
I
am thankful that my two-year-old grandson has taught me a lesson, or at least
reminded me of a lesson I should never forget. I am even so bold as to suggest
it is a lesson we all need to remember and certainly practice. Life will be
more enjoyable if we do.
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