I once worked with a man who said, “I played in the band for Elvis, how can I ever do anything better than that?” In essence, he was saying he reached the epitome of being a musician, now what? He was lost, depressed, and every gig he played left him feeling empty and disappointed.

He reached the top of his dreams before he was thirty. He needed new dreams.

The same happens to all of us in different ways, of course. Should all of life be exhilarating like opening Santa’s gift, shooting the free-throw that won the game, reaching the summit after a tough climb, hitting a jackpot on the slot machine, or closing the big deal?

Those are great times, for sure, but they are only moments and seldom, if ever, sustainable.

Proof of that is all around us. Is the guy whose goal is to be a millionaire satisfied when he reaches that magic dollar amount?

When is enough, enough? How do we enjoy the moments of glory and then settle back into routine with a sense of well-being? Where is the line in the sand that reminds us to stop or slow down the drive to maintain unrealistic expectations? Who are we? What’s the fundamental goal of life?

Suppose you can answer those questions, good on you. Most of us can’t. Philosophers have debated those questions without resolution since the beginning of time.

Mental wellness involves reaching for dreams, celebrating achievements, and then breathing while regrouping and starting anew.

The dream doesn’t need to be extraordinary; it might be starting a new book, planning a new trip, trying another recipe, walking an extra ten minutes, finding new ways to bring joy to others, and, yes, taking a nap.

Little highs are often superior to over-the-top emotions—but you need to believe they are, or life is full of self-degradation or self-pity.

Think of the guy who played for Elvis. The pleasure of strumming tunes got lost in the hectic and furious life in the fast lane. I often wonder if he ever accepted his fall from fame, searched for something equal or better, or just gave up?

We all get those choices.

What works for me is to relish a while in great memories. I seldom push them aside when they cross my mind. I enjoy them to the fullest, count them as blessings, and then shift my thoughts to the present—the right-now moments.

Moments in the present can evolve into the ones we relish tomorrow if we allow what we are doing in the present moment to carry more weight than moments of the past or dreams of the future.

We all have past, present, and future moments, but the greatest of these is the present.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

Powered by WPeMatico