The Two Doors

We can never make ourselves feel good by dwelling on what we don’t have. Never, ever, ever. We can try. But it won’t work.

When we appreciate what we have, we feel better. When we harp on what we lack, we feel worse.

When we think about our advantages — when we focus on what’s good in our lives, on what’s working in our favor, on what we can do, we feel better.

When we think about our disadvantages — when we focus on what’s missing in our lives, on what’s working against us, on what we can’t do, we feel worse.

It’s a simple recipe. Do we want to feel better? Then let’s concentrate on what we have. Do we want to feel worse? Then let’s concentrate on what we don’t.

This is one of the most important lessons anyone can learn about life — that we can control how we feel by choosing where to focus our attention — and it’s not complex. Why, then, is it so difficult to apply?

Why do we spend so much of our lives believing in the illusion that we can find happiness, peace, or salvation by thinking so hard about what we don’t have? Why are we so captivated by the topics of what we’re hoping to have someday, what we used to have that we lost, what we wish we could have that we can’t, and what we were supposed to have that we never got?

When we’re lonely, why do we intensify the feeling by thinking about the companionship we don’t have? When we’re tired, why do we think about the energy we don’t have? When we’re depressed, why do we think about the hope we don’t have? When our money is tight, why do we think about the riches we don’t have? When we’re stuck, why do we think about the momentum we don’t have? When we’re bored, why do we think about the excitement we don’t have? When we’re delayed in finishing a task, why do we think about the “doneness” we don’t have? When we’ve failed at something, why do we think about the success we don’t have? When we’re confused, why do we think about the understanding we don’t have? When we’re wavering, why do we think about the certainty we don’t have? When we’re afraid, why do we think about the safety we don’t have? When we’re feeling inadequate, why do we think about the skills or the talents we don’t have? When we’re sick, why do we think about the health we don’t have?

When we’re thinking about what we don’t have, we might be doing so for good reasons. Here are five reasons why, in fact, we should focus our attention on what we don’t have:

To understand our situation
To revel in fantasy
To find motivation
To set goals
To experience the thrill of the chase

These five reasons can be illustrated by a simple scenario: imagine we’re trying to drive a nail into a piece of wood. What we have is the nail, the piece of wood, and our bare hands.

If none of our efforts to drive the nail have succeeded, what attitude should we take? Should we think only about what we have? Should we focus only on making do? Should we avoid any consideration of what we might be lacking? Should we refrain from ever comparing ourselves to others? Should we hope that by tapping into some deep source of creativity or inner strength, we’ll find a solution that’s already within our reach?

On the contrary, it’s helpful to ask, “What are we missing? Why is this so hard for us? What do other people have that we don’t?” Here is how these questions might benefit us:

By noticing what we lack, we can better understand our situation. By comparing ourselves to other people, we can discover why we, in particular, are having such a hard time. Other people are using tools that we don’t have. We’re struggling because we don’t have a hammer.
Once we understand what we’re missing, we can imagine how it would feel to possess that thing. We can revel in fantasy. We can experience, in a dream, the pleasure of having what we want. When we think of owning a hammer, when we visualize how much easier our lives would be with the right tool, we can feel a bit of that ease, a hint of the effectiveness and power we’d gain.
But now that we’ve experienced the pleasure of fantasy, we’ve set ourselves up to experience intensified frustration in reality. We must face the letdown of not having what we want. That letdown is useful, in a way, because it might motivate us to change our situation. Maybe hammers are hard to find — there are no stores that sell them nearby. What’s to stop us from being lazy and accepting the status quo of not having the tool we need? Here, a bit of pain comes to our aid. In wishing for what need, and feeling bad that we don’t have it, we might find motivation to act.
Our priorities have come into focus. We’re ready to set a goal. Because we thought so hard about what we might be missing, we came to understand what would help us, and now we can save up to buy it, figure out where to get it, and set a date to go shopping.
With a goal identified, now we’re in motion, now we’re on a journey, now we can enjoy the thrill of the chase. We can busy ourselves in learning about hammers, comparing the options, searching for a good deal. And when we finally bring our hammer home, it’ll solve our problem: we’ll be able to drive that nail in one stroke.

This example represents the best case for thinking about what we don’t have: here, we happen to be correct in judging that what we have is not enough. And we happen to be lucky: there’s a ready-made tool that solves our problem. We just need to go out and get it.

Thinking about our shortage turned out to be a good move in this particular scenario. It helped us understand why we were struggling. It opened up the pleasure of fantasy. It created a letdown that propelled us toward change. It helped us form a goal. It sent us on a journey in which we could experience the thrill of the chase. And perhaps most importantly, it led to the resolution of our problem.

Thinking about what we lack is not always as successful as this. We could be incorrect in judging our situation. We could be wrong in concluding that we don’t already have what we need. And we could be unlucky: there might be nothing new we could acquire that would solve our problem. Still, we might mistakenly imagine that such a thing exists out in the world somewhere, and we might go on a fruitless and difficult chase that only distracts us from a solution that was available in easy reach all along.

The point is that “thinking about what we don’t have” is not always a mistake. Sometimes it’s helpful, sometimes it’s necessary, sometimes it results in progress. The mistake is to assume that “thinking about what we don’t have” is going to deliver more than it possibly can.

There is so much excitement, so much promise, so many possible benefits to be found in “thinking about what we don’t have” that we might assume this pathway of thought leads to everything good, even to happiness. Since “thinking about what we don’t have” can often be so fruitful, we might come to expect too much from it, so much so that we form a habit of indulging in it all the time. Whenever we’re upset, we imagine that “thinking about what we don’t have” will guide us to the cure.

At any time, there are two doors we can open. Behind one door, there’s what we do have – and the chance to appreciate the value in it.

Behind the other door, there’s what we don’t have – the dream of possessing it, and the pain of being deprived of it. There’s the promise of attainment and the frustration of paucity.

The “What We Have” door is boring and plain on the outside. What we have is what we know. What we have is old news. What we have can be a burden. To find new appeal within it, we need to work.

The “What We Don’t Have” door is sparkly and enticing. Its allure is immediate.

Which door should we open?

That’s a trick question, because we have to open both doors, again and again, throughout our lives. But if we spend too long peering inside the “What We Don’t Have” door, assuming that it contains happiness along with all the other stuff inside, we’re sure to find sadness there instead. A step toward avoiding this trap is to be more aware of which door we’re opening at any given time. Whenever we find ourselves concentrating intently on something, anything, we should notice which door we’re looking through to see it. Are we looking through the first door, or the second?

In our example with the wood, the nail, and our bare hands, those things are behind the first door. They’re “What We Have,” but they’re not all we have. Behind that door, there’s also our life itself, our presence, our physical bodies, our breath, our friends, our home, our neighborhood, our morning coffee.

Behind the second door, the door of “What We Don’t Have,” there’s a picture of the hammer, there are images of other tools that promise to solve our many problems, there are visions of faraway treasures that promise to delight and satisfy us, there’s the excitement of someday attaining these shiny things, there’s the frustration of not having them yet, there are the many searches we’ll undertake.

It’s not always a mistake to think about what we don’t have. The mistake is to assume that thinking about what we don’t have – and chasing after it – is how we’ll someday find contentment. The mistake is to forget that contentment exists in an entirely separate space from our problems and their solutions. The thrill we experience when a problem is solved doesn’t last forever: it only gives way to the awareness of other problems not yet solved. After we’ve driven the nail into the piece of wood, our situation changes perhaps, and our new problem is how to pull it out.

We can get lost behind the second door and never come out. But contentment lies behind the first door. Contentment comes from appreciating what we already have, which is something we can do at any moment, without acquiring anything new. Contentment comes from finding whatever good we can in the present moment, whether or not we possess the hammer that’s going to drive the nail into the piece of wood that we’re trying to drive it into for whatever reason.

Perhaps we could have used a rock instead? Or maybe we could have balanced the nail on the floor, facing upward, and slammed the piece of wood down upon it? The hammer helped us for sure, but perhaps it was not the only solution.

We can find a lot in thinking about what we don’t have. But we can never find contentment in thinking about what we don’t have. Never, ever, ever. We can try. But it won’t work. ■