bp9594
Aug 21, 2012
Undergraduate / 'Be happy with what you already have' - Essay A for UT austin [2]
"Honey, you don't need something just because everyone else has one. Just be happy with what you already have."
That was my mom's reply to me when I nagged her for a new iPod. Basically, I wasn't going to get one. She could have just said "no," but she always has to add some kind of insight to her answers; with her, there is never a simple yes or no. It seems as though every time I ask her to purchase something under $500, she turns me down. I'm beginning to think she's a little on the cheap side.
Days passed, and I found myself wandering through the technology aisle at the local supermarket. My eyes eventually rested upon the-you guessed it-new iPod. I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at my mom. As I kept recounting in my mind all the times she made me angry, I heard the crying voice of an infant and instinctively turned around. The baby was really cute, and I assumed it was agitated because his mother had shifted her attention to a pair of headphones. Immediately the mother redirected her eyes to her child and softly cooed him so that he ceased to cry. I was surprised, however, that the mother didn't stop at that. She gently lifted her baby out of his carriage and lovingly cradled him in her arms. The sight of this touched me, and I imagined myself as the carefree baby I must have been, snuggled in my mother's bosom. I felt a pang of regret at the relationship I have now with her.
And then, I looked at the baby, and observed that he was smiling, obviously enjoying his mother's love. I was tempted to take a photo. He was so...content. He was not interested in the many gadgets that surrounded him. He probably wouldn't even want an iPod though it were given to him freely. Then here I am, with an equally loving mother (I would like to think) but, not as emotionally content as this baby.
The more I think about it, the more I come to realize how amazing babies are. They cannot speak. They cannot walk. They cannot do many things. Yet, one thing they do perfectly: be content. In many circumstances I find myself so entangled in my want for something when everything I need is before me. I never seem truly satisfied. I envy the simplicity of a baby.
After witnessing such a scene, I think back about all my mom has done for me. She cooks for me. She does my laundry (or at least she used to). She offers me so many services and so much insight that I almost feel guilty about asking my mom for anything. And now, I often picture the baby I saw at the supermarket. I try to emulate the feeling of content it must have had in his mother's arms. I never realized I could learn so much and be impacted in such a way by a baby. I think life uses babies the way it does to teach "grown" adults what the most important lesson in life is: to enjoy what one has and thereby be content.
"Honey, you don't need something just because everyone else has one. Just be happy with what you already have."
That was my mom's reply to me when I nagged her for a new iPod. Basically, I wasn't going to get one. She could have just said "no," but she always has to add some kind of insight to her answers; with her, there is never a simple yes or no. It seems as though every time I ask her to purchase something under $500, she turns me down. I'm beginning to think she's a little on the cheap side.
Days passed, and I found myself wandering through the technology aisle at the local supermarket. My eyes eventually rested upon the-you guessed it-new iPod. I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at my mom. As I kept recounting in my mind all the times she made me angry, I heard the crying voice of an infant and instinctively turned around. The baby was really cute, and I assumed it was agitated because his mother had shifted her attention to a pair of headphones. Immediately the mother redirected her eyes to her child and softly cooed him so that he ceased to cry. I was surprised, however, that the mother didn't stop at that. She gently lifted her baby out of his carriage and lovingly cradled him in her arms. The sight of this touched me, and I imagined myself as the carefree baby I must have been, snuggled in my mother's bosom. I felt a pang of regret at the relationship I have now with her.
And then, I looked at the baby, and observed that he was smiling, obviously enjoying his mother's love. I was tempted to take a photo. He was so...content. He was not interested in the many gadgets that surrounded him. He probably wouldn't even want an iPod though it were given to him freely. Then here I am, with an equally loving mother (I would like to think) but, not as emotionally content as this baby.
The more I think about it, the more I come to realize how amazing babies are. They cannot speak. They cannot walk. They cannot do many things. Yet, one thing they do perfectly: be content. In many circumstances I find myself so entangled in my want for something when everything I need is before me. I never seem truly satisfied. I envy the simplicity of a baby.
After witnessing such a scene, I think back about all my mom has done for me. She cooks for me. She does my laundry (or at least she used to). She offers me so many services and so much insight that I almost feel guilty about asking my mom for anything. And now, I often picture the baby I saw at the supermarket. I try to emulate the feeling of content it must have had in his mother's arms. I never realized I could learn so much and be impacted in such a way by a baby. I think life uses babies the way it does to teach "grown" adults what the most important lesson in life is: to enjoy what one has and thereby be content.
