When the Well Runs Dry

Like the river beds and lakes here, I have found myself yearning to be filled up.

It has been a very hot, dry summer in New England. Farm fields are now dust clouds when the tractors pass through. Streams have become rock beds snaking through woods. Many trees already stand half-bare, having strewn their leaves in brown circles around their trunks, as if in surrender.

It is profound to allow ourselves to notice when we miss something, and in so doing to realize that what we treasure we often take for granted.  An appreciation for rain, often rare for summer-lovers, is rampant here now. Where there once were showers, a deluge of longing fills the air.

Lately my internal landscape has matched the landscape outside; much of the summer I have felt vaguely “dry.” Not dry in a sense of being bored or “flat,” but dry in the sense of having worked too much, leaving me feeling depleted, and wanting. With our California event in late July, my penchant for focusing on work to the exclusion of other things got the best of me, and I now understand anew the metaphor of feeling “burnt out.” Like the earth, I feel parched, lacking in a particular nourishment – one that saturates and enriches, making the ground fertile for new growth. Like the river beds and lakes here, I have found myself yearning to be filled up.

It is a bit embarrassing to admit, but sometimes when I get like this, I cannot tell exactly what it is I am yearning for, or how to actually make a shift to a new way of being. In the face of a world in deep need, self-care can seem indulgent, and my exhaustion can leave me stuck and unimaginative. When my internal reserves are too depleted to “look within” for a remedy, I turn to look outside myself. I scan the lives of those around me and follow the clues to see what triggers my longing. It is an unusual and humbling process, but I actually let envy become my guide.

Envy is painful IF we leave it as unexamined covetousness, and do not see it as carrying abundant wisdom about our longings and belonging.

Envy being very different than jealousy – there is no part of me that does not want the other person to have what brings them happiness – it helps me understand what I want or need when I see it as a lived experience in someone else’s life. It becomes animated in my awareness when I see the impact on a life – not just a one-dimensional depiction of the thing itself. “Oh,” I can feel myself sensing, “that is a way I would love to feel too.” Rested, creative, invigorated, connected, inspired, challenged, relaxed…any of these feeling states, and many more, have strong appeal. Once I recognize a state of being I desire enlivened in someone else, I can much more readily see the pathways there. And so I scan, and I let myself “pine,” and I listen closely to what my “wanting mind” and envy have to teach me.

In this practice, envy has become a powerful “pointer” of sorts – like a dowsing rod for my soul. I can feel the quiver when I am close to something that may be a welcome source of nourishment and replenishment. For example, I do not think of myself as a very “creative” person, but I feel envy when I am around people who have the telltale gratification that artisanship brings. Big clue: try something new, or pick up an old hobby. I also never go camping anymore, but I have found myself feeling the lovely, rough edges of envy when hearing about people’s camping adventures. Big lesson: crack out a tent. The calm from yoga: do it. The freedoms of simplicity: get rid of things. The meaning in service: help others. The joys of spontaneity: leave space in the schedule. The peace of nature: Go. And perhaps my biggest envy: the deep rest of good sleep? Get to bed earlier.

I need to acknowledge that envy can be some very tricky terrain to navigate. It is full of slippery slopes and sinkholes. Without taking action to address what we learn, it can easily pick up the steam of resentment and the spoils of self-pity. Unaddressed, it can make us smaller, rather than make our lives bigger. It can also incite an intense sense of separation from those who “have” what we want, as opposed to a source of connection. Envy is painful IF we leave it as unexamined covetousness, and do not see it as carrying abundant wisdom about our longings and belonging.

If we can cultivate gratitude for the enlightening roots of envy, perhaps we can notice better where our own lives feel lacking, and find inspiration and momentum toward greater aliveness for ourselves and the world.

If we can cultivate what the Buddhists call “empathetic joy,” then we bless, learn from, and connect with the source of our envy. If we can let envy emanate from humility and vulnerability, we can discover what stirs our souls. If we can cultivate gratitude for the enlightening roots of envy, perhaps we can notice better where our own lives feel lacking, and find inspiration and momentum toward greater action on behalf of ourselves, others, and the world. I, for one, am grateful that there are so many amazing people around me who live their lives in ways that move me, and I am truly grateful when I have the motivation, ability, and privilege to try to heed their example.

My plan this week: Clear my schedule, crack out a sleeping bag, grab some colored pencils and paper, get myself to a vista, salute the sun, help a friend, and let my well and my well-being fill up. Thanks to envy for helping me make my plan. And thanks to grateful living, which always reminds me to stop, to look around, to notice opportunities available to me, and then to GO and do something about it. So…humbled once again, off I go!

Kristi Nelson is the Executive Director of A Network for Grateful Living.  To read more about her visit this page.