When More Stops Making Life Better | The Art of Enough · Part Four

I like beautiful things. I like a beautiful home, good skincare, clothes I feel good in, dishes collected over time, and ingredients that make cooking more pleasurable. I like wandering through a beautiful shop and finding something I didn’t know I was looking for. So this isn’t an argument against buying things or wanting things. It’s about something I’ve started noticing in myself as I get older.

There is a point when more stops adding anything.

There’s a little rush that comes with something new. A package arriving at the door. A new sweater. Something for the house. Another skincare product promising better skin. For a moment, it feels good. Then the new thing becomes one of the things we already own, and before long our attention moves on to something else.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with enjoying that little spark. But I’ve become more curious about what I’m actually wanting in those moments. Do I really want the thing, or do I want the feeling I think the thing is going to give me? Sometimes those are the same. Sometimes they aren’t.

I notice it most in my home. There’s a point when another beautiful object doesn’t make a room more beautiful. It just makes it fuller. Another shirt doesn’t make getting dressed easier. Another skincare product doesn’t necessarily make our skin healthier. Another kitchen gadget doesn’t make us cook more.

And all of that more asks something of us. We have to store it, organize it, clean it, maintain it, make decisions about it and, eventually, figure out what to do with it. The things we own require a little bit of our attention, too. I don’t think I understood that when I was younger.

I’m also realizing that enough is incredibly personal. I have no interest in counting possessions or deciding how many sweaters, bowls or face creams someone should own. That just feels like another set of rules to follow. For me, enough is more of a feeling. It’s being able to look around and realize I don’t need anything else to make this particular moment better.

The room is good. Dinner is good. My skin feels good. The people around the table are good. This life, right here, is good.

That doesn’t mean I’ll never want anything again. Of course I will. I still love beautiful things. But wanting something doesn’t automatically mean I need to have it.

And I really like that distinction.

I can admire something without owning it. I can walk through a beautiful store and appreciate everything without bringing something home. I can love a dress and leave it hanging there. I can see a gorgeous kitchen and still come home and love mine. Wanting doesn’t always have to end in acquiring.

Maybe that’s why abundance looks a little different to me now.

It looks like enough food in the refrigerator to make a good dinner. Skin that feels healthy without a bathroom full of products. A home filled with things that have stories. Time to sit outside after dinner. People I love around my table.

And space.

Space in a closet. Space on a shelf. Space in my day. Space in my head.

For a long time, I think I associated abundance with having more. Now I’m beginning to see how abundant it can feel to simply have enough.

So lately, when I find myself wanting the next thing, I’ve been asking a different question.

Not Can I have it?

But would having it actually make my life better?

Sometimes the answer is yes.

And sometimes I look around and realize I already have what I was hoping to find.

xo, Natalie