All week I have been longing for a beautiful, antique 24-inch gold chain. I saw it in a glass box in a vintage jewelry store in Chatham. I can’t get it out of my mind. 

That’s not the problem, though. The problem is that all week I have been thinking, Angie, you have to stop wanting things. 

You have to stop thinking people hate you. You have to stop daydreaming. You have to stop talking too much at meetings. 

What a crap way to talk to yourself. Like a mother who periodically glances over at her ebullient, exploring toddler and snaps, “Stop!”...no matter what the kid is doing. 

So is the trick just to stop stopping? No. The trick is never to stop short—but to slow down, and watch, and—yes—investigate. 

I talk a lot in this newsletter about cultivating curiosity, but that’s because every moment is better if you meet it in a spirit of inquiry.

I try to think of myself like a detective—or like an old-fashioned psychoanalyst. “Well, look at me there, wanting a piece of jewelry. Hello, part of myself that wants to be beautifully dressed. You have been keeping me looking sharp for a long time ” 

In these periods of inquiry, I don’t jump on the brakes—or the gas. I just inquire, gently and with tenderness, into my fantasies and cravings and eccentricities. So often they have so much more to tell that way—and are so much richer—than when we just yield to them.

The great British novelist Deborah Levy has taught a whole course on the word “no.” She believes that, taken alone, “No diving” is one of the saddest sentences in the English language. What can you do in water where it’s too shallow to dive? How about, “This pool is for refreshment, relaxation, splashing around, and of course swimming any stroke.”

So instead of saying to ourselves, “Stop wanting things!” What about, “Want away—want excitement and connection, and fantasies of jewelry, and the possibility of self-knowledge that comes when you slow down and observe the mind and heart at work.”