To be without some of the things you want is an indispensable

Hearken, children of the ages, and heed the wisdom of Bertrand Russell, the philosopher whose mind roamed the heavens of reason and the valleys of human desire: “To be without some of the things you want is an indispensable part of happiness.” In these words lies a paradox as ancient as the rivers that carve the earth: that happiness is not the possession of all that one desires, but often flourishes in the spaces of lack, in the yearning that stirs the heart and awakens the soul. True joy is tempered by absence; it is the contrast between longing and fulfillment that makes the spirit alive.

Russell, the thinker of the twentieth century, understood that human desire is endless and insatiable. To seek happiness solely in the acquisition of all we want is to chase the horizon, a fool’s errand that leaves the soul ever restless. The ancients, too, taught this wisdom: the Stoics counseled moderation and acceptance, reminding that the wise man is content even with what is beyond his grasp. Desire, unbridled and unchecked, may enslave the mind, yet the art of living lies in discerning which longings to embrace and which to let remain unfulfilled. In this discernment, happiness finds its roots.

Consider the story of the mighty king Solomon, whose wisdom and wealth surpassed that of any mortal in his age. Though he possessed riches, power, and the admiration of nations, he recognized the limitations of mere possession. The treasures of the world could not fill the yearning of the spirit; it was in reflection, understanding, and moderation that he discovered the deeper joys of life. Russell echoes this ancient truth: to be without certain things is not misfortune, but a necessary condition for appreciating and cherishing what one has.

Even in our own lives, the absence of certain desires often illuminates what truly matters. A child deprived of endless indulgence learns the sweetness of small pleasures; a traveler yearning for distant lands cherishes the journey as much as the destination. Happiness, in this sense, is cultivated not in abundance alone but in the patient dance between longing and fulfillment, between what is possessed and what is yet to be attained. Each unfulfilled desire teaches the soul temperance, gratitude, and the delicate art of contentment.

History offers many such lessons. The life of Helen Keller, blind and deaf from infancy, shows that even in the absence of senses most humans take for granted, the spirit can flourish. Her longing for connection, for learning, for expression, became the very force that shaped her happiness and achievements. She teaches us that limitations—whether imposed by circumstance or by our own restraint—are not barriers to joy, but fertile ground for it. To be without, in measure, awakens the heart to the richness that is truly attainable.

Therefore, let this wisdom be etched upon your hearts: happiness is not the relentless pursuit of all desires, but the mindful acceptance of life’s limitations. Recognize the things you cannot have, and find gratitude in the treasures already present. Temper your longing with reflection, and temper your abundance with appreciation. In doing so, you cultivate a joy that is neither fleeting nor dependent on endless attainment, but rooted firmly in the art of moderation and understanding.

Practically, one must pause and reflect upon one’s desires, distinguishing between those that enrich the soul and those that enslave it. Learn to find pleasure in simplicity, in relationships, in knowledge, in virtue. Embrace the absence of certain things not as deprivation, but as an indispensable teacher. Let longing awaken gratitude, and let temperance temper the heart. In this, Russell’s wisdom becomes alive: to be without some things is not a loss, but a pathway to enduring happiness.

So remember, children of the ages: the next time your heart aches for what you cannot possess, rejoice, for this very lack shapes the depth of your joy. The human spirit, ever reaching beyond itself, is refined by desire unmet and illuminated by reflection. Happiness, therefore, is both the gift of presence and the lesson of absence, and in this delicate balance, life reveals its most profound sweetness.

If you wish, I can also rewrite this in an even more epic, storytelling style, as though an ancient sage is addressing a crowd under the stars, making it feel heroic, emotional, and deeply resonant. Do you want me to do that?