When I was an intern for the consulting firm in Reston one of my favorite things to do on my lunch break was window shop. I loved to walk by the stores and see the wares they peddled in new and exciting outfits, see the life they pretended to sell because most of the time I'd find myself wanting it to some degree or another (but usually it made me dislike what I already owned). I liked the life they showed me.That's what window shopping is, isn't it? It's selling a life and a lifestyle; it's this perfect dream world where the most fashionable clothes fit in all the right places and no one is ever alone. And it is separated from you only by a pane of glass; something clear and virtually invisible keeps you from the life you might want. Window shopping introduced something into our conscious we hadn't known before: suspended gratification. Not instant to be sure, but suspended and we live in it daily. I'll be happy when I have a nicer car, I have a newer phone, I have the best Mac, the best outfit, those shoes. “I'll be happy when I have...” joined our lexicon. We let happiness be suspended in front of us like the carrot in front of the donkey.
And we don't just do it with material items, we do it with ideas and immaterial goods. I'll be happy when I have the boyfriend/fiance/husband, the best job, the perfect kids, this big project is done, summer finally comes, the best group of friends, the most adventurous Saturday night, whatever it may be. “When I am prettier, when I am more popular, when I am better off, when I am respected then I will be...” and we fill in the blank with every good emotion we can make up. We window shop ideas and ideals. We let ourselves believe that The Next is what is bringing happiness and it never does; we somehow put all of our worth in our immediate happiness. We do this much more quietly than I am referencing; most of us aren't that blatant.
I am completely guilty; I put worth and hope, time and energy into potentials and I window shop at the storefronts that Hollywood and 5th Avenue sell me. I am sold those lies and I dutifully take them like communion.
I have to say that one of the happiest times in my life was when I didn't own much more than what was on my back, I was single but in a community and thus rarely alone and my work stayed at work and my life lived the rest. It had nothing to do with stuff or what my stuff said about me, it had to do with me and that's it. My worth truly was in Christ. I wish I could get rid of all of window shopping and finally get back to this business of simply being wholly gratified with right here.
2 comments:
You're so right. We are fortunate to live in the US, but sometimes I long to live in a 3rd world nation where I do not envy my rich friend's house or covet my neighbor's coach bag. (OK, I don't actually care about purses, but I couldn't think of anything else I covet right now. A good haircut maybe?) Anyway, would I trade my infectious covetous tendencies for the risk of polio? Probably not, but in my perfect world, it's easy to not covet, because there are no things to covet. I think that's the basic premise of communism (at least a Marxist regime), but that's not really a Christ-like attitude. I have sin. One day I won't be made of flesh, and that will be super, because this silly sin will be gone too.
In general, and because of whatever reason, I think being happy (even just "happy enough") with The Now is the most important thing. And if anything improves, gosh what a bonus!
Nice post, Spoon.
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