The Unexpected Gift of Not Knowing: A Lesson in Contentment
I used to think contentment was just settling for less. After all, in a world of endless upgrades and "premium experiences," who wants to be the person saying, "What I have is enough"? It seemed almost counter to everything I believed about personal growth and ambition.
The Sushi Paradox
My son and I share a simple tradition: whenever we make a quick run to the grocery store—just the two of us—we often grab some sushi. It's nothing fancy, just pre-packaged rolls from the deli section, but it's become our thing. My wife doesn't care much for sushi, which makes these moments feel even more special—a small, unplanned ritual between father and son.
Recently, we watched a video (you can see that here) featuring Omakase Kyara, a high-end sushi restaurant in Las Vegas. They break down an entire tuna right in front of guests, serving different cuts throughout the experience. Each piece offers its own unique texture and flavor profile, creating what must be an unforgettable dining experience. As we watched, I could see both our imaginations firing with possibilities.
But then I remembered a lesson my brother taught me about the hidden cost of "better."
The Brandy Principle
Years ago, when my brother lived in Zimbabwe, he developed a taste for brandy and soda—a common evening drink there. Like many former British colonies, Zimbabwe inherited some distinctly British drinking customs, though I suspect the brandy and soda tradition was less about colonial sophistication and more about making the most of what was available at the local bottle store. Before his visit to the Midwest, I asked what brand he preferred. His response was simple: "A bottle of E&J would be great. If they don't have that, Christian Brothers is always good too."
Eager to make his visit special, I discovered a small-batch French brandy at the liquor store—artisanal, premium, and five times the price of his request. When I shared my plans to surprise him with this "upgrade," his response challenged everything I thought I knew about luxury and satisfaction:
"As much as I appreciate the gesture, please don't."
The Wisdom of Contentment
His explanation stopped me in my tracks: "I don't want to know what it tastes like because I'm happy with E&J. I don't have the budget to afford that kind of brandy regularly, and I like what I already have. Why would I want to develop a taste for something I'll miss out on?"
This wasn't about settling for less—it was about protecting joy. In that moment, I began to see how our culture of constant upgrading might actually be diminishing our capacity for contentment.
The Professional Parallel
In my work, I've seen this pattern play out countless times. Teams chase the latest management frameworks, companies pursue increasingly elaborate office perks, and professionals constantly seek the next career "level up." But what if, sometimes, not knowing about "better" options preserves our satisfaction with what's working well?
The Vacation Paradox
Take family vacations. I've experienced both ends of the spectrum—watching humpback whales from a villa window in Cabo (breathtaking) and spending two cold February nights hiking in Northwest Arkansas (simple). Yet when my kids reminisce about family trips, they speak with equal enthusiasm about both. The Arkansas trip—with its art museum visits, shared meals, and family conversations—holds just as special a place in their memories as our more luxurious adventures.
Critical Considerations
This isn't an argument against improvement or exploration. Sometimes, knowing your options leads to meaningful upgrades that enhance life. The challenge lies in discerning when "better" truly means better, and when it might just mean more expensive, more complicated, or more likely to breed discontent.
Looking Forward
The Apostle Paul wrote about learning to be content in all circumstances—whether with little or with lot. This isn't about settling; it's about the revolutionary act of finding joy in what is, rather than constantly yearning for what could be.
So now, when I think about that high-end sushi experience in Las Vegas, I pause. Would it be amazing? Probably. But would knowing what we're "missing" enhance or diminish our joy in our simple grocery store sushi tradition?
Questions for Reflection
Where in your life have you learned to be dissatisfied?
What simple pleasures might you be taking for granted?
How has the pursuit of "better" affected your contentment?
Sometimes, not knowing your options isn't ignorance—it's wisdom. And in a world constantly pushing us toward more, choosing contentment might be the most revolutionary choice of all.
