The Good Life

Living “The good life.” That’s what we call it when wine is just a little more delicious, beds are a little softer, rooms are a little better decorated. As I sit here at the glorious W Hotel in San Francisco (just long enough to write this blog), I had the thought, “Ok. This is the good life.” I just finished a lovely breakfast that was a pretty as it was delicious (fresh fruit with honey infused yogurt drizzle and applewood smoked bacon), and am now perusing a catalog left in my room by the bliss spa, contemplating which of the nearly 100 options of pampering I might like to try while I’m here.

I am absolutely enthralled with this kind of living. I relish the anticipation of whatever fabulous foods await me in San Francisco, and I am purely delighted that my hotel room offers complimentary bottled water and bliss brand body butter. I wonder, though if Barry Schwartz might just be right. In his book, “The Paradox of Choice,” Schwartz makes the point that we get numbed to the good and bad of things, based on what our regular habits become. If we regularly drink the best wines and stay in the best hotels, for example, then our lavishness becomes “normal,” and therefore, not quite as satisfying, while anything less becomes quite the dissatisfier. Based on this information, it would seem that experiencing the “best of things” on a too regular basis leads, paradoxically, to less joy.

Have you ever heard, “Don’t save that good crystal for special occasions, use it every day, because every day is a special occasion?” I think the main point of that statement is to say that there is something special and beautiful in every day regardless of the circumstances that day brings. I subscribe to that theory. Nonetheless, are we turning ourselves into veritable amenity addicts, wherein we are forced to look for the next big high, ever pushing the envelope of luxury to the point that, because everything is special, nothing is special, anymore? It could be. And if that’s the case, then our relative discontent could be stealing our joy right out from under us.

So, what is the solution? Schwartz suggests practicing some self-deprivation. Go back to the times when you did save the good china for special occasions, so that you have some ritual that elevates the events in your life above the everyday experiences. I think this deprivation strategy is extreme. I think, actually, it is the variety, not the actual deprivation, that keeps us joyful and allows us to appreciate life. For example, during the perfect day that was yesterday, I wore blue jeans and ate a corn dog from a street vendor, with three close friends. Then, I had the pleasure of donning a little black dress and enjoying a lovely meal of lobster risotto and scallops in a chandeliered dining room, with new acquaintances. It wasn’t just the crystal that made the day, it was the contrast.

The thing about “The Good Life,” is that it’s all good. It’s good to use the good crystal, and it’s good to get out the plastic cups and eat on the porch. It’s good to eat blackened filet mignon with bleu cheese crumbles, and it’s good to eat a hotdog piled high with Hormel chili from a can. Variety may be more than the spice of life, it may be the absolute joy of it. And variety can help us remain in touch with our joy, because it reminds us that it’s all “The Good Life.”

If you find yourself feeling less than joyful, ask yourself what routine has numbed you. What will you do this week to mix it up? What will you do to feel more relaxed than usual, or feel more luxurious? How will you be making your life, “The Good Life?”