I May Never Be Satisfied, but I Will Always Be Content

and this is the biggest secret to my joie de vivre.

I don't know if I came up with / upon it during my new age reading journey (so somewhere along the way from A New Earth, to The Big Leap, The War of Art, The Artist's Way, and You Are A Badass, or The Alchemist round 2, The Four Agreements, The Fifth Agreement, and The Mastery of Love) or if I've always had it in me.

But while content and satisfied are synonyms, they're so entirely far from each other at the same time.

In this big wide world we're all hardly going to have a chance to see more than a sliver of at best, how can ANYone ever be satisfied?  There will always be more people to meet, more money to make, more places to go, more mountains to climb, more bridges to cross, more magic to be mystified by, more revelry to be tempted by, more mayhem to feel the need to reign in, more loose ends to wish to tie up.  Life is gloriously unsatisfying, and it's also a gift.

So every day there's at least one ray of sunshine that peeks through the clouds, every day there's breath in my lungs, and strength in my legs, and agency in my being, voila, I can call myself content.

Wise words my dad used to tell us Naugler kids growing up (maybe I could have saved money on all those books I bought years later, but they've been good reads, so no regrets).... "you can have everything you want if you want only what you need."

Simple is sweet if not satisfying.  But life's best seasoned with both the sweet and the salty.

Is this making sense?  I may still be in an Island haze...