Saturday, January 11, 2025

How to savor a glass of wine without wanting to have three?

Having a balance arises not from the absence of conflict but from the interaction of opposing tensions.

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar+ AI : Finding Restraint

Summary: Have a glass of wine and not three. Have a piece of chocolate and not the entire box. To rein in unconstrained runaway desires, having a restraining force would help. That force could be the sense of sobriety the realization of mortality brings.

I am always yearning for balance between striving to savor a glass of wine while resisting the temptation to reach for another. Yet, what unfolds is often the opposite of this aspiration. Even before the last sip touches the lips, thoughts of having another glass begin to swirl. Propelled by unchecked desire, the yearning for balance remains an unattainable horizon. My quest for balance between savoring (and feeling content with) a glass of wine, and not wanting another, has been a persistent call, but realizing it remains elusive.

What kind of balance, then, am I truly capable of achieving, and how?

Consider a possible state of balance as a metaphorical tightrope walk. That balance, however, is a place of unstable equilibrium. It is like a newly sharpened pencil balanced precariously on its tip. With great effort, this balance may be momentarily realized, but the slightest disturbance — a mere flutter from the wings of a butterfly — can undo it, along with all the hard work that went into it. This is not the kind of balance I seek.

Alternatively, balance could be a state of stable equilibrium. In this state, two competing forces create an outcome where opposing forces neutralize one another, allowing for stability. Achieving this state requires these opposing forces to coexist, enabling the system to settle into a middle ground. This interplay fosters an enduring state of balance that withstands life’s inevitable disruptions.

The balance I seek, thus, is not an unstable but a stable equilibrium that is longer lasting. I seek to savor a glass of wine but not drink three. Perhaps this balance will arise from the tension between two opposing forces, coexisting in harmony. The encouraging past is that such examples of balance are already part of my existence.

One such example is the tension between indulgence and restraint. Indulgence — the act of giving in to one’s desires — brings pleasure, excitement, and immediate gratification. Restraint, on the other hand, calls for discipline, patience, and long-term thinking. Alone, each force leads to extremes — indulgence to excess, ultimately harmful, and restraint to deprivation. When both are present, tempering one another, they guide life toward a middle ground of moderation.

Another pair of opposing forces that exemplifies the dynamics of balance is the relationship between control and surrender. Control represents the drive to shape, direct, and master life’s circumstances. Surrender, conversely, is the act of letting go, accepting what is beyond one’s influence, and embracing uncertainty. Life becomes unbalanced when either force dominates. Yet, when the two forces engage in constant dialogue, they create a state of equilibrium where one exerts effort without resisting the natural flow of events.

Circling back to the beginning of our quest, to find the sweet spot of balance I yearn for, perhaps what is need is an awareness of mortality as the force opposing to force of living.

Mortality brings with it the undeniable reality of life’s finitude. One of its hallmarks is the humbling realization of our impermanence. It prompts reflection on the transient nature of existence and forces us to weigh our actions.

Living with the cognition of mortality can introduce a stable balance that I seek. On one hand, mortality reminds us to embrace life, to savor its fleeting joys. On the other hand, it cautions us against allowing pleasure to become the sole, and the overarching goal. This duality of living and mortality encourages a path that is neither recklessly indulgent nor excessively cautious — a glass of wine and not three.

My yearning for balance will ultimately require an ongoing dialogue between opposing forces of living and dying, each pulling in a different direction yet working together to create harmony. The balance created by these two can augment a similar interplay between other forces that help find the middle path: indulgence and restraint, effort and rest, control and surrender, attachment and detachment, individuality and interconnectedness.

Perhaps tomorrow, as evening falls and I sit on the screened porch with a glass of wine in hand, I will savor the joy of the final sip and find the fortitude to resist reaching for another pour. It would be deeply gratifying to honor the balance between the unrestrained desires of living and the sobering discipline of mortality.

Ciao, and thanks for reading

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