Less or more? These are the two opposing words that often cloud our thoughts when caught between greed and need.
More is the end of the scale that can outweigh logic, when our selfish motives fail to recognize the thin line that separates excess from enough. How much is more? How little is less? We all know the answers but we allow our wisdom to be absorbed by consumerism and other self-serving reasons. We are trapped by the lure of pointless acquisition and its promise of false happiness. And in the process, we get disconnected from other more important issues in our lives, leaving our priorities floating aimlessly up in the air. Interestingly, a classic example is our feet. We are born with a pair. One is left and the other is right. How many shoes can they wear, each time they take us out for a walk? Common sense tells us that two is the norm. But there is a woman in Asia whose outlandish taste for luxury re-defined the word "excess" with a super extravagant twist. She shocked the whole world with her nearly three thousand pairs of shoes that can confuse even the longest centipede.
Have we forgotten to be satisfied? We need to be reminded every now and then, that it is still humanly possible to stay with the basics and be content with what we have. We need to learn the art of contentment.
The art of contentment? Is there such an art? Yes, surprisingly, there is. A family of robins that were nested on a plum tree in my backyard last summer gave me a crash course on the subject. It was a case of Mother Nature, presenting an amazing show-and-tell. The robins' interesting behaviour had me riveted for hours, prompting me to take notes in the three days that I observed their daily routine. The strings of movements were well timed and swift. Every morning, the parent robins would take turns flying out of the nest to gather worms and insects for their young while the other stayed on guard to protect the babies. Food would arrive one beak-full at time, no more and no less than what was needed for consumption. The widely opened little beaks of the baby robins receiving the ration, guaranteed that every piece was swallowed in. Their easy way of life was just as simple as the nest, which was made of grass and twigs that perfectly conformed to the specifications of the architect Mother Nature. The design was simple but it clearly met the needs of the birds. And that easily explained why there were no visible attempts from the robins to modify it. Unlike most humans who are hardly satisfied, birds have no use for huge and fancy homes. They just wanted a simple and happy life. Their mastery of being content is highly admirable and a good lesson to all of us.
The photo of the mother robin feeding her babies is one of the shots I took during the watch-and-learn session with the masters of the art. It also echoes a verse from the gospel of Matthew which reads: “Look at the birds: they do not plant seeds, gather a harvest and put it in barns; yet your Father in heaven takes care of them!”
If we can only emulate at least eighty percent of the robins’ less demanding life, then, we can certainly discard many of life’s unnecessary complications and live a happier life.
More is the end of the scale that can outweigh logic, when our selfish motives fail to recognize the thin line that separates excess from enough. How much is more? How little is less? We all know the answers but we allow our wisdom to be absorbed by consumerism and other self-serving reasons. We are trapped by the lure of pointless acquisition and its promise of false happiness. And in the process, we get disconnected from other more important issues in our lives, leaving our priorities floating aimlessly up in the air. Interestingly, a classic example is our feet. We are born with a pair. One is left and the other is right. How many shoes can they wear, each time they take us out for a walk? Common sense tells us that two is the norm. But there is a woman in Asia whose outlandish taste for luxury re-defined the word "excess" with a super extravagant twist. She shocked the whole world with her nearly three thousand pairs of shoes that can confuse even the longest centipede.
Have we forgotten to be satisfied? We need to be reminded every now and then, that it is still humanly possible to stay with the basics and be content with what we have. We need to learn the art of contentment.
The art of contentment? Is there such an art? Yes, surprisingly, there is. A family of robins that were nested on a plum tree in my backyard last summer gave me a crash course on the subject. It was a case of Mother Nature, presenting an amazing show-and-tell. The robins' interesting behaviour had me riveted for hours, prompting me to take notes in the three days that I observed their daily routine. The strings of movements were well timed and swift. Every morning, the parent robins would take turns flying out of the nest to gather worms and insects for their young while the other stayed on guard to protect the babies. Food would arrive one beak-full at time, no more and no less than what was needed for consumption. The widely opened little beaks of the baby robins receiving the ration, guaranteed that every piece was swallowed in. Their easy way of life was just as simple as the nest, which was made of grass and twigs that perfectly conformed to the specifications of the architect Mother Nature. The design was simple but it clearly met the needs of the birds. And that easily explained why there were no visible attempts from the robins to modify it. Unlike most humans who are hardly satisfied, birds have no use for huge and fancy homes. They just wanted a simple and happy life. Their mastery of being content is highly admirable and a good lesson to all of us.
The photo of the mother robin feeding her babies is one of the shots I took during the watch-and-learn session with the masters of the art. It also echoes a verse from the gospel of Matthew which reads: “Look at the birds: they do not plant seeds, gather a harvest and put it in barns; yet your Father in heaven takes care of them!”
If we can only emulate at least eighty percent of the robins’ less demanding life, then, we can certainly discard many of life’s unnecessary complications and live a happier life.
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