Take your share as it comes round

Saturday at the table. The dish you wanted is at the far end, and someone else takes the last of it. A friend gets the trip, the house, the relationship you've been quietly aching for. The same machine that ran all week at work starts up at home: that should be mine, why not me, when's my turn. Off the clock, the discipline of desire turns toward the life around you — and it asks you to want what's actually being passed your way.

Epictetus used a banquet for exactly this: "Remember that you must behave in life as at an entertainment. Is any thing brought round to you? Put out your hand, and take your share, with moderation. Doth it pass by you? Do not stop it. Is it not yet come? Do not stretch forth your desire towards it, but wait till it reaches you" (Enchiridion 15, Carter). He names children, a spouse, money, position — all of it dishes coming round the table, none of it yours to grab early or hold forever.

Wanting what you have isn't settling. It's eating what's on your plate while it's hot, instead of glaring down the table at someone else's.