Recently, my chai lost its punch. The spice faded, and I couldn’t figure out why. I kept changing the mixture by adding more honey, but it kept getting less and less spicy.
Then I cut the honey in half, and the flavor returned immediately. The sweetness had been strong enough to mute the spice even though the drink didn’t taste sugary. That small discovery felt familiar. I’ve lived a long time learning that sometimes less is more.
I’ve often believed that if one is good, two is better. That instinct has followed me in all sorts of places. The best example of this is when I was in my late teens, water skiing with a friend on trick skis. One time, he swung the boat into a sharp turn, which flung me outside the wake at a tremendous speed. The first time was such a thrill, I motioned him to try it again.
The second run was even faster. I remember the great downward pressure on my legs as I whipped around the outside of the curve. It was so great, my knees buckled under the weight. I have no memory of the next moments, but my friend said I hit the water several times in a row, somersaulting each time like a stone skimming a pond. I woke up in the boat, shaken and missing my swimsuit!
That pattern has shown up in many areas of my life. Shopping, food, exercise, sports, driving. Anything that activated the dopamine response in my brain felt like a green light to push further. For years, I tried to regulate that tendency. As I’ve aged, I’ve started to see that regulating it does not address the problem or the belief behind it. My chai reminded me again that “more” often strips away the enjoyment.
I am grateful for the number of reckless moments God has shielded me from. Carl Jung observed that the normal drives of youth can turn into harmful drives later in life. That idea resonates with me. I am beginning to appreciate the pleasure of doing less and enjoying it more.
The chai experience also revealed something about how change works.
1. Growth begins with clarity.
The issue wasn’t the chai mixture. The honey was the real variable. Personal change often works the same way. The surface-level behaviors are rarely the root. Most of the time, the deeper driver has been running quietly in the background for years.
2. Change becomes real when a new truth is acted upon.
People naturally hold on to familiar patterns. They feel predictable even when they are unhelpful. The moment I actually reduced the sweetness, the spice came back. It helped the truth sink deeper. Understanding moves further when the heart integrates what the mind has already learned.
3. Maturity requires finding the hidden element.
We all carry something that dulls the joy in life. For me, it has been a compulsion. For others, it shows up in different forms. Naming it is the first act of freedom because it removes the secrecy that keeps it alive. This is why I love journaling about things as they begin to emerge in my consciousness.
I am learning that life is richer when I pay attention to what actually creates joy rather than chasing bigger versions of the same thing, which often reduces joy. Reducing the honey improved the chai. No longer believing that “if a little is good, a lot is better is changing my life", and is slowly and steadily improving my life.
What are you thankful for this year that was not true a year ago?