“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly: what is essential is invisible to the eye.” –Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
Recently I was walking to The Met and passed by this bronze statue of The Little Prince across from Central Park. It was a delightful surprise. It was bitterly cold — I was impatient to get inside where it was warmer — but I really appreciated this inspired interruption to my walk.
Something I’ve been thinking about lately is the background discontent that seems to take up space rent-free in our minds. It’s hard not to be jaded, or worried, or catch oneself periodically feeling some kind of FOMO. These are practically the hallmarks of being an adult. Per the news cycle, there are daily reasons why we should be pessimistic about the state of the world. But it’s important to push back, and I don’t mean through blind optimism.1 How do we break through?
Distraction offers some relief. For many people, myself included, indulging in some retail therapy now and then is a way of soothing some of these uncomfortable feelings. Buying something nice for yourself when you’re stressed about work or a family matter is a kind of material procrastination. It’s human to want to seek some respite via one’s chosen pleasure principle. But in the end we’re still left with our problems, and perhaps a pile of stuff that we don’t actually want or need.
Not surprisingly, technology is part of the problem. There’s periodic hand-wringing about how the internet has ruined the specialness of things (see the press kerfuffle when The Row implemented a no-smartphone rule during its latest show). In recent years there’s been a lot of insightful writing on the algorithm effect2 and getting off of the dopamine train.3 The more we dissect modern life, the more we see through the digital smoke and mirrors. Where does that take us? Is it possible to see the world with eyes wide open and not be overcome by cynicism?
I don’t have the answers, but I’m not throwing my phone away nor am I heading off to an ashram (not yet, anyway). There are small yet impactful ways to combat this modern malaise. What I’ve noticed are the effects that certain scenarios/practices have on my psyche. I’d slot them into two categories: (A) short term highs and (B) long term contentment. Category A’s are grand gestures; they’re dramatic and glamorous and full of fireworks and sparks. But always short-lived. In contrast, much like an old pair of favorite jeans, category B is quieter, workaday, unassuming, mundane. It’s the Category B practices that help keep me anchored and centered.
These aren’t exhaustive lists, but you get an idea:
The A-list (The cool, new, exalted, thrilling. But the dopamine high doesn’t last and often keeps you coming back for more.)
buying Veblen goods (sometimes aka “Holy Grail” items)
Black Friday online deal hunting
the energy in a luxury boutique
upgrading to the latest model not because the previous thing broke, but because “it’s old/outdated/needs a refresh”
scrolling social media
limited edition collection releases
hype
unboxing something
wearing a brand new thing for the first time
The B-list (The joy/satisfaction/wonder never gets old, regardless of how many times I’ve experienced it.)
rewearing old wardrobe favorites, year after year
rewatching favorite movies (such as: The Sound of Music, All About Eve, Lost in Translation, Rebecca [the OG Hitchcock version], The Royal Tenenbaums. What are yours?)
creating & writing
the cooldown after a HIIT workout
the aroma of sautéing onions while cooking dinner
cooking a favorite recipe for the nth time
looking at art
hanging out with friends
meditation + yoga
volunteering
beagle puppies (this one, too)
IKEA hacking a design problem
vegetable gardening
laughing at my partner’s old jokes
It’s not that everything in column A is bad; it’s keeping the balance that’s tricky. All I know for sure is that I want to keep adding more of the B-list to my life. There’s magic and wonder and a joyfulness that resonates and lingers beyond the moment itself. The kind of joy that doesn’t diminish over time. I want to keep cultivating this contentedness, this calm sense of having and being enough.
Our consumer culture programs us to always want more, to want to have it all, with the ‘it’ being a forever changing goalpost. As it turns out, you can buy a lot of things, but you can’t buy contentedness. The B-list reminds us that we already know what it feels like to be content and full of gratitude. It’s a work in progress. We just need to shift our focus and tap into those “invisible essentials.”
What’s on your B-list?
Remember Pollyanna? Culturally synonymous with annoying, relentless optimism, but recent studies in the field of positive psychology are reassessing what Pollyanna can teach us about not just surviving, but thriving.
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