Too Much of a Good Thing

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Everyone has their California phase. You might know what I’m talking about. That time in your life, usually right after college when you're trying to figure out your future, and you start daydreaming about running off to sunny Southern California and never looking back.

I thought that was going to be me. I grew up in a suburb of Boston, and nearly every winter spent in New England had me dreaming of California. Or as the song goes, "California dreamin' on such a winter's day".

Don't get me wrong — from June to September, New England is unbeatable. There's perfect weather and a coastline attracts people near and far, from Taylor Swift to the Kennedy's. (The first time I tried to go skydiving, the company canceled because the Obama's were vacationing in Martha’s Vineyard and our plane would have been in restricted airspace. Tragic, really.)

For those who prefer freshwater, there are hundreds of lakes, some set against the backdrop of 6,000-foot mountains with amazing hiking trails. And if you're not much of a nature person, there are charming towns and bustling cities, all connected by scenic drives. New England has something for everyone.

But here's the catch: the other eight months of the year are brutal. An East Coast winter is a long, dark, cold winter. Then just when you think spring has arrived, boom, you get hit with a snowstorm in late March. I couldn't stand it. If I wasn't skiing, I was miserable. "Life doesn't have to be like this," I thought to myself, "I could go to a place where it's warm all the time."

So I did. Soon after college, my friends and I rented a place in San Diego and lived our version of the California dream, which mostly consisted of eating tacos and surfing. It was perfect.

I appreciated San Diego because my plane had just taken off in a snowstorm, I hadn't seen the sun in two weeks, and frankly, because it was different. But would I appreciate it the same way after, say, a year?

I flew home before then, but my question was answered. All of those times I complained about winter and never listened when my mom would say, "Winter makes you appreciate summer" made sense.

It made sense why the beaches were always empty in San Diego, why the perfect swells weren't being ridden, and why 75 and partly cloudy was a movie theater day. It turns out, too much of a good thing can quickly lose its appeal.

It made sense why a New England summer feels like magic.

There are ten good weeks a year to pack a cooler and hit the beach, hike the mountains, sit on patios, have barbecues, and soak up the sun. We wait all year for those weeks.

Winter serves as the disrupter. The way we resist adaptation and keep things fresh. Winter is the commercial in the middle of a Breaking Bad episode and closing time at the bar. It's the thing nobody knows they need. It's the reason the highway to Cape Cod is bumped-to-bumper traffic all summer.

Too much of a good thing can diminish an appreciation of that good thing. It's like listening to your favorite song on repeat or seeing a withering Christmas tree in someone's house after New Years.

The very things that reduce our appreciation when they are abundant, are the same things that give life value. A scarcity of them would ruin the purpose of life altogether.

• An abundance of work could damage relationships. But work is necessary for purpose.

• An abundance of savings could be the result of missed experiences. But savings are necessary for living expenses.

• An abundance of solitude could cause loneliness. But solitude is necessary for personal growth.

Perhaps the most fundamental example of balance is fire and water. Both can be deadly, but we depend on them for survival. It's an absurd paradox.

And just like fire and water, money can be both the key to our survival and the source of our destruction. It's easy to take a lot of money for granted. You start to play status games, splurge on luxuries you normally wouldn't consider, and it loses its meaning. It's the financial equivalent of an endless summer.

Too much money and it means nothing. Too little money and it means everything. Life is all about balance. It's about finding the right mix of work and play, solitude and socialization, routine and spontaneity. It's about appreciating the abundant and the scarce.

Tomorrow is April and as another long winter comes to an end, I'm ready for an abundant summer. So here's to the changing seasons and the balance they bring to life. Because really, what's summer without winter?

Stay warm,

Sam

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