Drink from the Garden Hose - Aspire Better - Family Health, Urgent Care, and Concierge Medicine in Harrisburg PA

Drink from the Garden Hose

“Times!” someone would shout for some reason or another. Then the race was on, and if I was fortunate enough to get there first, I would grab the garden hose from the drinking end, quickly turn the spigot on full blast and wait impatiently for the stale, hot, rubbery water to clear the hose. Then recklessly plunging my face into the bubbly cascade of cool water, I would draw long, satisfying gulps into my belly, trying to keep nasal irrigation to a minimum, but not really caring either. Of course, there was always an eager buddy leaning in close seemingly fearful that the tap would run dry saying, “Come on, save some for the rest of us!” Then when I couldn’t hold my breath any longer, I would pass the hose while declaring “ahhhh” with gasping effort as water dripped from my chin to my grimy chest. Water with dinner was never quite as good.

Quenching Life’s Thirsts

Like the quenching of an eager thirst, so many of life’s greatest delights are found in the satisfaction of healthy desires for things such as food, water, shelter, comfort (freedom from pain), friendship, intimacy, the affirmation that we matter. When the satisfaction of any of these comes, it fills us with joy and delight, and not only as a transient experience of pleasure but as a fulfillment of an essential need. These elements are central to who we are; we need them to survive. If any are missing, we will dwindle into suffering and even risk death.

But unlike many of the routine functions of our days, we do not need a “to do list” to remind us to fulfill these essential needs. Our bodies and minds are wonderfully designed to offer cues when we are in need—cues such as hunger when we need fuel, thirst when we need hydration and pain when we are in need of repair or need to move away from danger. More ill-defined and nuanced are the complex emotional cues of loneliness, fear, insecurity and unfulfilled hope. These are equally essential, driving us towards relationship, safety, identity, and purpose.

And while these cues are critical in helping us identify a deficiency or need; the beauty of the design is that we are rewarded when we respond and satisfy that deficiency. Our physical and emotional senses are designed to reward us with pleasure. Consider some of our most basic experiences—we breathe deeply through our noses when the smell of homemade bread fills the air, and we impulsively sing “mmmmm” as our tongues discern nuances of sweet, savory and even the right amount of bitter. When we laugh together, our faces blossom in shared delight as our bodies relax and threaten to collapse into one another. Even when sad, our tears invite others to move close that we would find comfort and reassurance in their presence. We press into the tight embrace of a loved one we have long missed. Our hearts and minds race in the passion of loving intimacy. We blush at a well-placed compliment, and we press our lips together in a half smile and exhale through our nose—a sigh of sorts—when we are told, “I’m so glad you are here, it wouldn’t be the same without you.” This is how we are satisfied—a cue—a response—a pleasure. 

 

Wired for Desire

It is essential to understand that the cues themselves are not random intrusions but rather a consequence of our living. It is a built-in alert that follows a physical or emotional deficiency, and that deficiency is a direct consequence of our actions or inaction—our choices— the stuff of life. We feel hungry and thirsty in response to work, exercise or play. We long for reconnection with family or friends after time away traveling, exploring or working. We long for love and intimacy after seasons of solitude. We seek solitude—time to rest and contemplate—after extended time with others. It is the experience that generates the need, the need that prompts the cue. It is then that we can truly delight in the satisfaction of that need—contentment.

But rather than recognize these cues as pointing us towards healthy physical, emotional and relational living, we tend to see the cues themselves as suffering and therefore believe that they should be avoided. As are result, we are tempted to either preempt the cue by jumping directly to the experience of ‘pleasure’ or bingeing far beyond simple satisfaction. It is also common to seek to satisfy one need with an experience of pleasure intended for the satisfaction of another need. We have all done this—eating or drinking when bored, stressed or sad; replacing relationship with Netflix, or tolerating toxic “love” for fear of loneliness, and feeding on virtual-likes to affirm that we matter. Yes, each of these can infuse us with a transient sense of pleasure—sugar rush, intoxicating buzz, sexual arousal, flattery. But in doing so, we exchange the amplified and lasting joy of satisfying a true need for what quickly becomes the indulgence of insatiable habits, often leading to pain and regret.

The real tragedy in doing so, is that we don’t spend our lives pursuing the fulfilling experiences of relationship, community, work, service, adventure and play. We hesitate, because to do so is costly and will inevitably lead to the ache, longing or discomfort of desire. But the experiences that generate the need are not only expenditures but are themselves answers to our core longings for connection, value, and purpose. The euphoria of quenching a driving thirst from a garden hose is not just a physiologic wonder, but part of a larger story of friendship, play, shared experience, and even a little risk (where has the dog been?!).

 

My challenge to you is this. Dare to live a costly life—a life where you allow yourself to desire, to ‘aspire’ and pursue. It is then that you can truly delight in the fulfillment of the need that follows. Don’t be satisfied with the bloated indulgence of a blunted desire—live, risk, and enjoy contentment… “Ahhhh”

 

“Breaking a fast feels like the exact opposite of a hangover.” 

Nassim Nicholas Taleb, Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder

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