Vanity Fairest

When I woke up this morning, something in me had changed. After struggling through more than a few weeks of internal darkness, suddenly, in the smallest of ways, everything was just a little bit warmer. Lighter. Sunnier.

Of course, today was one of the first mornings of spring that it was actually warm, light, and sunny out. I’m sure that had something to do with it, even if I hadn’t opened the curtains yet.

Certainly, this delightful awakening was also made possible in part by the hour or so I spent at Rob’s parents’ house last night, wherein we met to discuss the impending purchase of our apartment (more on that later).

I’m not just sucking up to the in-laws, here. I really mean it: those people make me feel good about myself. I could show up filthy, drunk, swearing and twenty pounds heavier, and it wouldn’t be ten minutes before they would be all, ”Well don’t you look pretty!” and, “Wow, you are looking so skinny these days!” and, “Remember when you did that one thing that you can’t even remember doing and it was the most brilliant thing we had ever heard?” et cetera, et cetera, et cetera ad nauseam, except it doesn’t make me nauseated BECAUSE I LOVE IT.

Everyone in this life needs a fabulous friend and a family-in-law like mine. I am convinced that the wasteland of my typical psycho-emotional condition is entirely attributable to a deficiency of having these people in my physical presence on a daily basis.

Imagine what my ego could be! Every morning would be like this wonderful morning.

There is also tiny part of me that really believes, but is still reluctant to admit, that my newfound, in-fact-quite-bearable lightness of being may well be the product of a religious experience.

Bear with me, now. If you woke up to the dog retching, retching, retching and then puking all over the place, dragged yourself out of bed and cleaned it up, got back into bed and managed to fall asleep for five blissful minutes before waking up to feel the best you’ve felt in months, well, you would think you had found God, too.

Last night I had the good fortune of being invited to a Passover seder in the home of a family friend. Although I have the unfortunate condition of being a decided atheist, I very much enjoy being included in and learning about other people’s religious celebrations. Especially when these events take place in a happy, positive environment, such as, say, over dinner. (Feed them and they will come; the Jews know how to do this right. It bears consideration here that perhaps I may not have lapsed in my Catholicism had, say, some of the sacraments been conducted while I was being fed.)

During the seder, the Jewish people outline a litany of wonderful things God has done for them, culminating in their salvation. Although of course they are grateful for the whole shebang, they make special mention of each individual element along the way. After naming each item, they say in Hebrew, “Dayenu,” which (loosely) means (something like), “It would have been enough.”

It would have been enough.

What a concept. To be able to see the big picture, and even hope for it, but to be fully content and grateful for what you do have, right there in front of you.

We have all heard this before, of course. But something about dayenu stuck with me, and I woke up today thinking about what my life would feel like if I accepted and appreciated that this is all there ever would be.

I always say I realize that I have a great life — better than I could have imagined, asked for, or planned. But the overachiever in me is constantly pushing for more, telling me that it’s not enough to be doing the best I can if there’s still more out there to accomplish.

This, of course, is important. We have to try in life. But some of us push too hard, too often, and lose sight of the big picture, which is actually the small picture — the short-sighted vision of what is right there in front of us. Which is the thing that actually exists, as opposed to the thing that we are trying to bring into existence. It is the only real thing.

So, for today at least, I am trying to reconcile my drive to do more, be more, and want more from this life with a real and heartfelt appreciation for what I do have right this very minute, despite all the hassles and headaches and missing pieces and glaring errors that point in no uncertain terms to my own personal shortcomings.

I am trying to learn how to care about getting things done, and getting them done well, while also being content with things as they are right now, and equally happy if nothing works out the way I want it to.

What is right in front of me is all there really ever will be.

And that is enough. Dayenu.