Holly D. Mattson

into the wild - alone We live in a culture of wants. It's no secret. Everywhere you look, you see covetable stuff. Shiny stuff. Pretty stuff. Fancy stuff. Cool stuff. I admit, I like stuff; however, I am also overwhelmed by it all.

The first thing I vividly remember wanting--with every pleading fiber of my nine-year-old self--was a pair of Nike sneakers. Ones with a lavender swoosh, like Amy Gardner's. I also wanted a baseball tee shirt with a silk-screened unicorn on the front and my name in fuzzy letters on the back. And a Cabbage Patch Kid (and another Cabbage Patch Kid). And let's not forget the Hello Kitty erasers and scratch-and-sniff stickers. I got all of those things, and pretty much everything else I've wanted for over the years.

Whoop de doo.

Want is an insatiably hungry beast. It took me a good, long time to realize all that stuff just gets in the way of truly living. My happiness has little to do with designer handbags or $200 jeans or a yoga wardrobe full of Lululemon gear. I am more than the sum of my possessions--and you are, too.

Last weekend I watched Into the Wild, and the message has been haunting me ever since: stuff does not equal happiness. As circumstance would have it, I've been a student of this philosophy for the last six months. While I would give anything not to be in this situation, it is perhaps the most valuable lesson I've ever learned, distinguishing want vs. need.

"Until you have it all you won't be free." -- "Society" by Eddie Vedder

In order to experience that sense of freedom, you have to come to terms with the fact that you already have everything you need. Trust. Dig deep. Look in the way back of your closet. I promise, whatever you're looking for is there--as long as you're willing to be creative.

Can you cultivate your own definition of happiness--of "having it all"--with only the resources at your fingertips? Life is short. Time is passing. You can't afford to wait.