What My Favorite Fine Dining Restaurant Taught Me About Life

Lately, I’ve been caught in a swirl of conflicting emotions, feeling torn between envy and gratitude. One moment, I’m frustrated and disheartened by the gap between where I am and where I want to be. I then resort to feeling humbled and deeply grateful for the life I have. 

It’s as if I’m constantly oscillating between two poles—envy of what I think I lack and appreciation for what I already possess. This emotional dance is disorienting, yet it’s teaching me something profound about myself and how I engage with life.

Envy, I’ve come to realize, isn’t just about wanting what others have. It’s a signal of my own dissatisfaction, a yearning for a different version of myself, one who has achieved all those elusive dreams. 

It’s not easy to admit, but sometimes I feel trapped by the expectations I’ve placed on myself, by the stories I’ve told myself about what success should look like. It’s a painful place to be, constantly measuring myself against a yardstick that seems to move further away with each step I take.

But then there’s gratitude, this powerful force that pulls me back from the brink. When I pause, take a breath, and really look at my life, I see the richness of it—the people, the experiences, the lessons learned. 

Recently, I found myself back at Cherry Creek Grill in Denver with a friend, a place that holds a special allure for me with its refined ambiance and impeccable service. It’s a five-star experience from the moment you walk in, the kind of place where every detail is meticulously curated. 

But this time, my visit was tinged with a sense of limitation. As I scanned the menu, the prices made my heart sink a bit. Sadly, I couldn’t afford the luxurious dishes I used to indulge in. So, I settled for a $12.00 glass of red wine, sipping it slowly while watching other patrons order freely from the menu, their tables adorned with plates of beautifully presented food.

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy as I observed the ease with which they made their choices, seemingly unconstrained by the cost. Yet, at the same time, I felt a profound sense of gratitude. 

Despite my financial limitations, I was still able to enjoy the warm, welcoming atmosphere and the top-notch service that Cherry Creek Grill is known for. 

It reminded me that luxury isn’t always about what’s on your plate but can be found in the experience itself—the soothing music playing softly in the background, the attentive waitstaff who made me feel like I belonged, even if I was only having a single glass of wine. It was a lesson in appreciating what I had, even when it wasn’t all that I wanted.

Gratitude reminds me to ground myself in the present, to acknowledge the abundance I’ve been given, even when it feels like it’s not enough. It’s a humbling realization that shifts my focus from what I don’t have to what is already here, right in front of me.

It is with this that I’ve been pondering what the Stoic philosophers might have to say about this emotional turmoil. Seneca, for example, would probably advise me to see these feelings of envy and longing for what they are—wasted time and energy spent on things beyond my control. 

He would remind me that life is short, and time is our most precious resource. Every moment I spend wishing for something else is a moment lost, a moment I could have spent fully engaged with the life I already have.

Marcus Aurelius would likely encourage me to be more present. His words echo in my mind: 

"Do not dream of having what you do not have, but reckon up the chief of the blessings you do possess." 

I’m learning that when I center myself in the here and now, I find a kind of peace that transcends my desires. It’s not that the longing disappears, but it loses its power over me. I’m beginning to understand that my life, as imperfect as it may seem at times, is enough.

Epictetus, with his profound insight, would likely advise me to focus on what is within my power—my own thoughts and actions. He would urge me to stop trying to control the uncontrollable and instead cultivate an inner freedom that no external circumstance can take away. 

With his admonition, I start to recognize that my happiness doesn’t depend on reaching some future destination or acquiring something outside myself. It lies in my ability to align with the values and principles that matter to me.

As I navigate these waters, I find myself turning to Eastern philosophy for guidance on how to let go and surrender to the natural flow of life. 

I’ve discovered the concept of Wu Wei, or effortless action, from Taoism. It’s teaching me to stop fighting against the currents of my emotions and circumstances and instead flow with them. 

Like water, I am reminded that I can find a path around obstacles without force or struggle. In other words, when I let go of my rigid expectations, I find that life unfolds with more grace and ease.

I’m also reflecting on the Buddhist principle of impermanence, known as Anicca. Here, everything—my feelings, my desires, my frustrations— are transient. This insight helps me not to cling to envy or even to gratitude, but to allow them to pass through me like clouds across the sky. 

I’m learning that just as I am not defined by my successes, I am not diminished by my perceived failures. Everything is in flux, and that’s okay.

Non-attachment, or Aparigraha from the Yogic tradition, has been another eye-opening piece of wisdom. I’m realizing that I can experience envy without letting it consume me, just as I can practice gratitude without expecting life to always be perfect. 

It’s about holding my emotions lightly, observing them without becoming entangled in them. I’m finding that this practice of non-attachment doesn’t make me indifferent; rather, it allows me to engage with life more fully, with a clearer sense of who I am and what truly matters.

Mindful awareness, or Satipatthana, has become an invaluable tool for me in this journey. By observing my thoughts and emotions without judgment, I’m creating a space between myself and these shifting inner states. It’s in this space that I find the freedom to choose my response, to let go of the automatic reactions that have kept me trapped in cycles of envy and discontent.

And then there’s the Taoist concept of surrendering to the Tao, trusting that there’s a greater order to things, even when I can’t see it. It’s a leap of faith, really, to believe that I don’t have to control everything, that sometimes the best thing I can do is step back and let life take its course. 

This doesn’t mean giving up; it means aligning myself with a higher presence, a natural flow that carries me toward a deeper sense of peace and purpose.

I’m not going to lie, it’s still a struggle navigating this emotional dance while learning to balance the yin of envy with the yang of gratitude. But with the wisdom of the Stoics and the guidance of Eastern philosophy, I’m beginning to find a way to embrace both, to see them not as opposites but as necessary parts of a whole. 

It’s a journey of self-discovery, of letting go and leaning in, of finding peace amid the paradoxes of life. And in this dance, I’m learning to surrender to something greater, to trust that I am exactly where I need to be, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

---

I invite you to support my work at $6.00/month or $60.00/year. Not begging, just if you feel so moved to contribute.

In the meantime drop me your thoughts in the comment section below.

Onward and Forward……..

Diamond-Michael Scott aka The Chocolate Taoist