The Good Life Can Be Built Anywhere
i.e., Why I should've given up Zillow scrolling for Lent
Since I was a kid, I've been a real estate junkie. I love all things interior design and architecture. I love exploring new neighborhoods. I love popping into estate sales and open houses just to see how others set up their homes. How they live. Our homes say so much about how we run our lives, and I've always found how other people run their lives utterly fascinating.
So, even when we're not in the market for a new home (and thanks to eight percent interest rates, I don't think we ever will be again), I love to peruse Zillow. I like to see what homes are available in our area and observe the architecture of our neighborhood, city, state, and region.
It's fun and mostly innocent. Until it isn't.
Like any pastime, Zillow-scrolling can turn sour fast based on the disposition that drives it. And when I'm in what I call a "slump," peeking into windows of others' lives can go from inspiring and energizing, something I bring back into my own family and home to improve and enliven it, to enervating and escapist.
In other words, I spend an awful lot of time thinking about what my life could be like instead of appreciating (and living) the life I already have. The life that, frankly, I longed, prayed, and hoped for . . . for years.
I know that I'm not alone in this.
Millennials are restless. Theories abound on why. It could certainly be our unmooring from the local community. The virtual nature of the workplace which allows us to do our jobs from anywhere is great, but it also means that we've largely shed any loyalty to the local and communal. Many people love to blame most any cultural ill on industrialization, so that could partially explain our transience too. But really, in the end, who knows?
Whatever the cause may be, I'm not immune to the (mostly unhelpful) pull of wanderlust: and I'm actually really happy with my living situation. Our neighborhood is lovely, safe, multi-generational, and friendly. We live down the street from my parents and around the corner from new friends with kids the same age as our own. We can walk to a pool and five playgrounds. We have a literal white picket fence.
This proves that any tinge of restlessness has nothing to do with my situation, nothing to do with thinking there is actually a better option somewhere else (because right now, for my family, there isn't). I think it's part of the human condition. It's much easier to fantasize about a parallel, imaginary life than to do the work needed to make our reality better.
Granted, it's ok to dream. As Pope Benedict said, we are, indeed, "made for greatness." And dreaming of where we can plant ourselves, where we can build a home and a life and a community, is a central part of that quest for greatness. But the good life, I've heard it said by people far wiser than I am, can be built anywhere. And while in some cases we may be asked to uproot and start anew in a foreign place, in far more cases we're best off building the good life where we are, with the tools, community, and resources we have.
With only a few days left in Lent, I'm shifting my focus from cutting out sugar and dairy and caffeine to, instead, asking whether there are other habits more deleterious to my soul than an extra cup of coffee a day. Maybe, instead of refreshing Zillow when I feel myself getting bored, I can close that tab (literally and figuratively), roll up my sleeves, and tend to my own home. How can I make it more life-giving, more beautiful, more nurturing, more hospitable? How can I pour myself into the home, work, life, and family, that I've so marvelously, so graciously, so miraculously, been entrusted?
I'm going to start with small acts, because as embodied beings, that's how we effect change. Sure, I'm going to pick out paint samples and (finally!) decide what color to paint the playroom. But I'm also going to clean up and open the windows and let the fresh spring air in, enjoying that sweet spot between the last bite of winter and the onslaught of early-summer pollen. I'm going to invite friends over for dinner and play good music and light a few candles and cook my favorite meal. I'm going to fill this house with light and laughter and life. I'm going to build the good life right here, where we are, with what we have.
Because really, we have been given so much.
Journaling Questions
What seemingly innocent habits or habits are leading you to dissatisfaction, jealousy, or even despair? How can you curb them?
What can you do to increase your appreciation for your present home, community, environment, family, living situation, etc? What are two or three small, simple, embodied acts that can help you see more beauty, peace, and freshness? How can you cultivate hope right where you are?
Food to Try
An Instagram recipe: Healthy Lemon Olive Oil Loaf
Mix:
2 cups of almond flour
1/4 cup of olive oil
1/4 cup of maple syrup
1/4 cup of lemon juice
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp lemon zest
1/4 tsp baking soda
Add to a greased loaf pan and bake for 30-40 minutes at 350.
Food for Thought
The American Mind, “The Mother’s Gauntlet,” Lane Scott
Fairer Disputations, “Why You Should Have More Kids,” Leah Libresco Sargeant
Public Discourse, “Problematizing Fertility, Normalizing Disease,” Taryn DeLong
What I’ve Been Writing: A Roundup
Q&A with Luke Burgis, Public Discourse
Q&A with Tara Isabella Burton, Public Discourse
A Prayer for You
Father,
I abandon myself into your hands;
do with me what you will.
Whatever you may do, I thank you:
I am ready for all, I accept all.
Let only your will be done in me,
and in all your creatures –
I wish no more than this, O Lord.
Into your hands I commend my soul:
I offer it to you with all the love of my heart,
for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself,
to surrender myself into your hands without reserve,
and with boundless confidence,
for you are my Father.
Amen.
~ Charles de Foucauld
Until next time, with love,
Alex