“You can never get enough of what you don’t want.” It’s a common philosophy, a version of which has been repeated by Wayne Dyer, Mary Ellen Edmunds and other spiritual leaders. But it took meeting Biembo for me to understand what they were talking about.
My chance encounter with Biembo came in a meeting in the Dominican Republic. My daughter and I had traveled by bus to a horse ranch on the interior of the island where we would be going by horseback to a famous waterfall.
The trail from the ranch to the waterfall was steep and treacherous enough that we needed a guide for our horses, so in the hopes of a generous tip from the tourists, locals would volunteer. Biembo was the one who made the journey possible for me.
He spoke no English, I spoke no Spanish, but I was able to gather that he has been married 20 years and had 4 children. The idea that this was not just a kid trying to earn extra money, but a man close to my age trying to make a living was not lost on me.
The homes I saw in the DR were essentially shacks smaller than my master bedroom. Bathtubs were outside, there was no glass in the windows or doors in the frames, and garbage was piled up in streets. Yet every yard was landscaped, dirt walks were swept and there was a level of care taken with these possessions that made me feel a little ashamed about my own stewardship.
Throughout the tour I watched Biembo interact with the other guides and those at the homes along the trail who were clearly part of his neighborhood, I found myself as enamored with his quick smile and cheerful attitude as I was with the paradisiacal surroundings.
As the local tour guide spoke lovingly about his homeland, I couldn’t help wonder how these people who lived in abject poverty, by the standard of anyone in the developed world, could feel like they had life so well. He told us about how much DR helps their neighbor, Haiti, a country he described as poor.
At the end of the tour, I had become so endeared to Biembo that I wanted to forgo my cruise and spend the rest of my week with him. I longed to meet his family, to see how he lived, to feel the plenty he clearly experienced.
I vowed I wouldn’t forget him. But as I went back to my own real life, it wasn’t so easy. Back in the land of shopping malls and mcmansions, I found myself needing a faster internet service, a new pair of boots, an extra hour in the day.
But in hectic moments where I feel there has to be something more than this, Biembo and his lesson on contentment leave me wondering when enough is enough.
I’m left with the same bewilderment as Isaiah:
Wherefore do ye spend money for [that which is] not bread? and your labour for [that which] satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye [that which is] good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.
King James Version Chapter 55:2
What do you spend money and work on that doesn’t satisfy? What brings you contentment?
i know–i spend my time cleaning our mcmansion, organizing the toys the kids don’t take care of, shopping for christmas stuff that i’ll just be cleaning up later, and wondering why i’m not happy…
Funny, my daughter’s middle name is Santosha, which means contentment in sanskrit. I figured that if I could give her anything, it would be contentment.
I especially feel a sense of lack in my life when I am moving at a pace that is too fast for my natural rhythm, or too slow. When I am giving too much, or not enough. Sometimes I feel unsatisfied if I’m not mindful of how those around me are influencing my perspective. When I’m mindful though, it’s easy to see how much abundance I have. It’s carrying that awareness with me that’s the hard part.
I like to remember the words to the Shaker hymn, “Simple Gifts”:
‘Tis a gift to be simple, ’tis a gift to be free
I enjoy living simply. I enjoy quiet. These things are considerably harder once you have kids. However, I also find great contentment in extensive travel, studying from the books of the world, or tasting food from other countries. Someone in reduced circumstances (such as you have described here for Biembo) could never afford these things. My desire to live simply is a luxury that the poor can’t afford. They have no choice in the matter.
I hesitate to romanticize the lives of the poor, especially those that live with limited access to clean water or adequate medication. I don’t think the poor are happier than the rich. I think of happiness as a trait that can be cultivated, or an attitude. Is it easier for those who have never had any material possessions, is it easier for them not to worry about the things they don’t know exist? Perhaps. But I have seen enough of the poor in the inner cities to know that abject poverty also brings shortened lifespans, high infant mortality rates, disease, and sorrow. Longing for something better. Hoping for a miracle.
Biembo was clearly a man who had cultivated a manner of happiness. I suspect he was also luckier than most – he lived near a popular waterfall where rich tourists wished to visit.
anon – I am encouraged when I read Isaiah’s words as bewilderment rather than judgment, sometimes it’s nice to look at my own life through that perspective and this is a perfect time of year to do it. I think I romanticized Biembo’s life, I really think I want indoor plumbing and faster internet service. But his contentment was contagious.
Laurie – you remind me of a quote I read recently but can’t remember it’s author (paraphrasing here too) – that nature never rushes yet still manages to get everything done. Sometimes we complain that a season is taking too long to come or leave, but it’s not as if nature really cares whether we like it or not, or whether it’s behind or on schedule. I could learn something from that great Mother :) I like how you identified too slow of a pace can also serve up dissatisfaction.
Kate,
Admittedly, I romanticized Biembo’s life – a reality I faced when I saw the big knife he wore under his shirt. I’m sure he did mine too – probably considered me some rich tourist able to saunter through the DR without a care in the world.
But I don’t think Biembo would say he was poor – it was part of my experience that astonished me most. It’s drastically different to see people who have enough – food, safety, shelter, etc. versus those who don’t. I got the sense from him he had enough, yet what struck me was our drastically different standards for what was enough and how fluid they can be. Interestingly, those few hours I shared what he had, when I lived in that very moment, it was enough.
After hearing the story of a young mother, alone with her newborn in a tent city in Haiti, on NPR today, even Biembo seems rich. He had his family and some opportunity it support it.
I often catch myself at Target looking at the rows of containers: stuff to put our stuff in. Storage facilities: places to put stuff that doesn’t fit in our houses. I have a side of my personality that likes to catalog my stuff. I was just thinking last night about how I can’t wait for Thanksgiving so I can get out my Christmas stuff. And I fancy myself a minimalist by waiting until after Thanksgiving!
When I think of how I often petted my ego, telling myself I deserved my comfortable lifestyle, that I earned it by obedience, etc, I feel sick now. Yes, I’ve made (some) good choices; but most of my circumstances are due to one thing: luck. Any other explanation offered has made me pretty profoundly uncomfortable with it’s implications.