Recently I had one of those conversations with a friend about living a life of leisure and never having to work. Of course, secretly, or maybe not so, a life of leisure wouldn’t suit me at all. I definitely need to keep myself busy and be passionate about something, and if I get paid for it, then even better.
But in this conversation, we hit upon an important point. To work because you want to, and not because you have it, is a really small but majorly significant thing. For some of us, it means the difference between misery and happiness. Knowing that you are doing what you do because you love it is an intensely rewarding experience.
Which brings me to the subject of debt. It’s probably not a surprise to anyone (or actually, maybe it is), but I used to carry a large amount of debt. Embarrassingly, it’s not even “good” debt, but more the accumulation of random spending sprees on nothing important. But it adds up when you don’t pay attention, and my creditors loved me.
They still love me, but maybe not so much now that I net them no interest (on the other hand, they don’t have to worry about my defaulting). I paid off my debts in a very short amount of time, once I decided it had to go. And it’s probably the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.
Because here’s the thing. There’s nothing wrong with random spending sprees on nothing whatsoever. What’s wrong is when you don’t actually have that money to spend. Living on borrowed funds isn’t much more fun than living on borrowed time.
Ironically, being in debt was helpful for my ability to save – once the debt was paid off, the additional money went into savings, and frugal lifestyle changes I had incorporated managed to stick. There’s room to breathe, of course, hence my current 2 month vacation, but there’s also a sense of fiscal responsibility (even on vacation) that I think will always stick with me.
So today, when I walk into the restaurant for dinner, I’m going to order whatever sounds tastiest, and not have to worry about whether I can afford it. Because I can. No regrets.
Jack Kornfield has this amazing book called After the Ecstasy, the Laundry. It is about what it sounds like – life after enlightenment, and all the little things you still have to do to lead your life.
In some ways, I’m reminded of that book right now as I sit here in an internet cafe. I’m halfway through my decadent yoga holiday, in which, for two weeks, I do nothing but sit on the beach, do yoga, and eat fish curry.
All of which I am doing (though less fish curry and more banana lassi and thoran, I find). But that’s not all. I also diligently sweep my room and clean my bathroom every day, and wash my clothes (by hand) every few days. I’m also planning next moves (ie, Borneo and Korea), job hunting, getting my eyebrows threaded, figuring out how to pack everything, working out my finances, and basically everything else I do when I’m not on yoga holiday.
Which all leads me to think two somewhat different but in some ways similar things: 1) that “vacation” is an exotic-sounding term we use to describe something that is NOT our regular lives (and therefore, in some ways, an unattainable nirvana), and 2) who needs vacation when we can transform our seemingly mundane daily lives into something more profound? I mean, if I still have to do laundry and wash my hair and assess my finances in nirvana, why wait til nirvana to feel like I’m on holiday?
The laundry has to get done anyway. And on vacation, I have to wash by hand – far more work than my washing machine back home. So instead of making some false distinction that makes more sense in fantasy than in reality, maybe instead I’ll take my normal, every day life and turn it into a permanent vacation.
Which I guess is a long-winded way of saying that instead of waiting for some idealized perfection in some distant future that will never happen anyway, we can just enjoy how things are in the moment, because you know, enlightenment isn’t that great. You still have to do laundry.
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