The Measure of Things

We are not the measure of things, yet so often define ourselves by them. By our nice cars, homes, and commodities. We weigh our pocket books, and yet constantly wish they were fuller. But we are our more than this.

If you are like me then on top of that you wish for a spouse, the children you’re not yet ready for(maybe in a few years or several few), and the admiration from those who are watching. Your parents, your brothers, your friends, and everyone in between. If you are like me you want them to see your things, your beautiful wife, your home, and your pocket book and then admire you. Or at least think that you have something figured out. And that’s a small reason you want those things. Because it’s how you’ve defined success.

And if you’re like me then you know that tonight will be spent on lonely futon mattress in a basement apartment just like the night before. And you will wish for what you don’t have instead of being thankful for what you do. You will dwell on this for while, and then your dog will beg for your attention and remind you just how much she loves you as she shoves her paws into your back. She’s pretty damn satisfied. And you’ll remember that life’s not about the things we gather. And you’ll wonder why have to keep reminding yourself:

Think on what you have not what you don’t and you’ll be happier.

And you’ll remember how scared you are of debt. How much you like your freedom. You’ll remember that you don’t want to settle just to be in a relationship. That love is patient, and you can’t rush it. You’ll remember that you actually like this futon mattress, and that the basement is cool even on the hottest of days. That tomorrow you’ll wake up in Montana surrounded by mountains. And you’re working a job you love and your dog gets to go with you. You’ll remember the things you do have, and realize once again, life’s been pretty dang good.

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