“We don’t make our lives better by pursuing prosperity. We find prosperity by pursuing betterment.”
Stephen Boudreau
I was in a hardware store the other day, which is unusual for me.
My home improvement projects usually involve avoiding the need for improvement altogether, but on this occasion, I needed a lightbulb—a single, humble lightbulb. It’s one of those things you don’t think about until you’re left sitting in the dark, pondering the philosophical implications of choosing between soft white and daylight.
As I meandered through the store, lost in the aisle of 60-watt existential crises, I realized that the journey for a lightbulb was quickly turning into a quest for something greater. You see, somewhere between the dimming incandescent and the dazzling LED, I became convinced that this lightbulb—this one, tiny, fragile piece of glass—was the key to making my life better.
If I just found the right one, everything would fall into place. I could be one of those people who invite others into their perfectly lit living room to discuss novels by candlelight, even though there’s absolutely no need for candles when you’ve got the perfect lightbulb.
But here’s the thing: the longer I spent searching for this mythical lightbulb, the more I realized I was getting further from what I actually wanted. My life wasn’t going to be better just because I found a bulb that made my face look less like a Halloween pumpkin and more like a Renaissance portrait. The improvement I sought wasn’t going to come from the soft glow of an Edison bulb but from the softening of my own expectations.
That’s when it hit me: we’re all on these little quests for lightbulbs—figuratively speaking. We think, “If I just get this one thing right, everything else will fall into place.”
Maybe for you, it’s not a lightbulb. Maybe it’s a promotion, a new car, or finding a coffee that doesn’t taste like burnt toast. We chase these things, convinced that the next one will bring us the happiness we’ve been searching for, like a scavenger hunt where the grand prize is enlightenment.
But let’s be honest—happiness isn’t lurking in the fluorescent lighting aisle. It’s not hiding behind the expensive car or the corner office. If anything, those things just add more overhead lighting to the already blindingly bright world we live in.
What really makes life better is the pursuit of something simpler, something quieter, something less likely to burn out after six months of moderate use.
So, what if, instead of chasing after the perfect lightbulb, we focused on simply being the light? Not in a grand, “I’m going to save the world” kind of way, but in a “Hey, maybe I don’t need to fix everything to feel okay” kind of way.
What if we stopped worrying about how to make our lives look better and started thinking about how to actually make them better? Not by acquiring more, but by being more—more present, more kind, more willing to laugh at ourselves when we realize we’ve spent 45 minutes debating the merits of daylight versus soft white.
Life’s funny that way. The minute you stop hunting for the perfect bulb, you realize it’s not about finding the right one—it’s about making the most of whatever light you’ve got. And let’s face it, whether it’s a dim flicker or a blazing beacon, you’re still going to trip over your dog in the middle of the night.
So here’s to betterment, in all its imperfect glory. Let’s not worry so much about how bright our lives are, but rather how warmly they glow. Because at the end of the day, it’s not about chasing after a perfectly lit life—it’s about finding joy in the light we already have, however dim or dazzling it may be.
