If your life was a plate, what would it look like?

No, really. Think about it.

Think about how many main dishes it would have. Are there vegetables and meats and many different types of foods? Are the foods all from one cuisine or do you prefer a variety? Do the foods complement each other? How much food is on the plate? Sweet or Salty? Dessert?

And looking beyond that, what does the plate itself look like? Is it fancy, delicate, and rimmed with gold? Or perhaps simple, sturdy, and wooden, with a quiet charm? What is it made of? Porcelain? Steel? Does it have cracks and chinks?

Think about it and then think again.

If your life was a plate, what would you want it to look like?

From my own reflection, I’ve come up with a short list of things I want for my own plate:

1.) A small plate

2.) An eternal presence of main dishes

3.) A variety of side dishes

4.) A generous plate

Let me explain.

My first stipulation, which I will be focusing primarily on, sounds quite odd; but it’s based off of the idea that a smaller plate makes the food on it look more plentiful (what up, dieting tips 101). Now that probably sounds somewhat sad and illusionary, but in reality, it’s my key to being content.

Because metaphorically, many people strive for more food, and better food, thinking that somehow with just this much more, their plates will be complete. To some extent, this is true. In the simplest monetary sense, more is directly correlated with increased life quality (again, only to a certain extent). However, the reality is that at some point, we get used to what we have. Our plates grow with our food—which is why even with all the technological advancements today, people are still working and wanting more than ever (and yeah consumerism, but that’s another story).

Here are a couple pictures to explain it (excuse my crappy drawings):

On the left is man with a lot of ‘food’ and on the right, a man with just enough ‘food.’

What do you expect their plates to look like? Under logical circumstances, one might suppose that the man on the left would have ten overwhelmingly full plates of food versus the man on the right, with his ordinary plate.

But instead, things might look like this:

Yep that’s right. The plate might be much bigger, but when you step away, the plate looks no different from the the other man’s plate. This is because the left man’s expectations, standards, and appetites have changed. The increase in food theoretically doesn’t make him any happier than before—rather, the absence of food will make him less happy, and his plate, more empty. Of course, theoretically, people could argue that yes, the man could’ve put his food into ten plates, but that ignores the fact that each person can only be eating out of one plate at a time.

Thus, I want to keep my ‘plate’ small, and 100% full. And it’s fine for those who want to keep their plates a little larger, but also 100% full. Because the key idea is the fullness not the amount; the proportion, not the magnitude. Without maintaining a constancy in expectations, aka a small plate, we chase after things without ever being fulfilled.We then begin to take for granted the things we have and happiness is no longer realistic (note that this doesn’t necessarily apply to personal growth; I’m not telling everyone to settle and stop improvement).

And though I’ve been rambling quite a lot about this idea of a small plate, I’d also like to step back and say, it is by no means the most important factor to life—only contentedness.

The other three are definitely just as, if not more, important to the quality of a plate, or a life.

The main dishes for example, the important things, the important people are all you need for a meal of substance. Everything else could go away, and if these things remain, your plate is still filled with quality. This could mean family, the best of friends, passions, or your favorite book. Whatever it is, it’s changeable and growable, but rooted in the deepest crevices of your life.

On the other hand, the side dishes are the colors and wonders of your life, the joys that comes from exploration and understanding, from seeing and tasting new things, different things. They are the thing that let people say, I have a well-rounded and interesting life.

And finally, with each unique plate comes the last gift of giving. Good food is meant to be shared, and only with multiple people, multiple plates, multiple lives can there be a feast.

Everybody’s plate in of itself, is made of a different material, a different product of self (e.g. hardships, creativity, or personally, God). And each plate is defined by the things put on it. We all have different things to bring in the pool, but we should also remember to actively think about what our plates and lives look like, and how we might want them to look like. Because sometimes what we truly want can be ours, sometimes we can have more than enough, if we only remember to adjust the size of our plate.