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What does it take to make you happy? How much must you have to be grateful?

To the barefoot man, happiness is a pair of old shoes. To the man with old shoes, it’s a pair of new shoes. To the man with new shoes, it’s more stylish shoes. And, of course, the fellow with no feet would be happy being barefoot.

This leads to the ancient insight: If you want to be happy, count your blessings, not your burdens. Measure your life by what you have, not by what you don’t.

Yet in our modern world where we’re continually exposed to endless increments of more and better – others with more money, better TVs, and bigger houses – this is very difficult.

For some people, the pleasure of having something good is drained as soon as they see someone else with something better. Our sense of contentment is created or destroyed by comparisons.

A life consumed with unfulfilled wants is an affliction. The antidote is understanding the concept of "enough."

Start by thinking more clearly about the difference between your needs and your wants, between sufficiency and abundance.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with wanting more and striving to fill our lives with things and experiences that give us pleasure, so long as we don’t believe we need whatever we want.

When we think we need what we really only want, we make our desires preconditions to happiness, thereby diminishing our ability to appreciate and enjoy what we do have.

It’s easy to think that happiness is achieved by getting what we want when it’s really a matter of wanting what we get.

In the end, enough is enough.

This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.

* There are a number of versions of a story and poem titled “I Wish You Enough” circulating on the Internet – all without attribution. This is my favorite:

I overheard a mother and daughter at the airport as a departure flight was announced. They hugged, and the mother said, "I love you and wish you enough."

The daughter replied, "I wish you enough, too, Mom."

They kissed and the daughter got on the plane. The mother walked over to where I was seated and smiled.

I said, "When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough.' May I ask what that means?"

"Oh, that's a wish that’s been handed down in my family,” she said. “My parents used to say it to everyone. When I wish my daughter enough, I express my wish that she has a life filled with just enough good things to give her lasting pleasure and joy.”

Then she recited this short poem:

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.
I wish you enough pain so even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.

The woman began to cry, and slowly walked away.