I have more than I can do with - so much extra. And this is sometimes daunting. There are so many actualities, and so many more possibilities. And I keep reaching.
Imagine a scenario: You and your favorite food...and an appetite! Nothing better than that, right? Well, whatever your favorite food is - let's say steak, just for the hell of it - no matter how perfect, it could use something to go along with it, right? So, let's add a baked potato, with butter, sour cream, salt and pepper. That improves on perfection, doesn't it? How about we add some asparagus? Maybe sauteed mushrooms. A really good steak sauce couldn't hurt. A nice salad to go with. Maybe an appetizer to get things started. Oh yeah, mustn't forget the wine. What better way to top off perfection than with dessert?
Then coffee, then brandy. Then a cigar. How about the music. And the setting ought to be just right: comfortable furniture, a nice room, with a view, overlooking something impressive, and close, but not too close. And the weather should be just so. And it should be early evening, dark but with a touch of blue lingering on the horizon, and a crescent moon rising. And...for company...!
Seems a little like my life, that. Something in that notion of constantly improving on perfection. Maybe a little neurotic? (is neurotic even a concept anymore?) My life is good, very good, even - yes - perfect!...like that single bite of steak can be. But nowhere in this perfection does there seem to be space for the concept: enough. There's only the space for the baked potato.
Is there something wrong with a something that always needs to be growing, that needs always to be expanding, improving? All my life I've heard something to the effect of "grow or die!" I don't know that I believe it anymore. My body isn't really growing any longer. But I'm healthy and continue to exist. Businesses talk about the need to grow, to generate profit, to diversify product and capture new markets. But there are not-for-profit's that work. Everybody gets paid, there just isn't any extra.
It seems to me that so much wealth - so much extra - has become tiring. And beside the point. Slow and same maybe, for awhile.