When I first heard the term “havingness” about 15 years ago, I was immediately intrigued by this unusual word. More than an accounting of what you already have, havingness is the state of your capacity to have. It isn’t just what’s in our possession, but it is the quality of how we treat what we have, and how open we are to holding more. More than material things, it is our ability to receive appreciation, experience joy and enthusiasm, follow through on the worth of our ideas, and ultimately receive love.
Each of us has a kind of ceiling on havingness, which says ‘this is as much as I deserve’ and we may settle there, believing we can not do better. And if someone challenges us to raise that ceiling, we may find ourselves arguing for our limitations; “my parents struggled so should I; everyone settles, it’s the practical thing to do; I haven’t succeeded, met someone, been discovered yet, so why waste any more energy dreaming of the impossible?”
But when we dig a little deeper into our reasons for keeping our havingness ceiling low, we may find that there is a silent contract we’ve made with ourselves to settle in a limitation because, in some way, it’s actually working for us.
To raise your ceiling on havingness, you must take risks. These risks often involve shaking up the status quo, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before, opening yourself to rejection, disapproval and even pain. If we aren’t willing to include these things in our experience, then a low ceiling is just what we need.
But because these things are on a spectrum, risk also opens us up to a far greater possibility space. Our possibility space is that invisible room in the imagination, where we allow ourselves to dream of what could be. It may include impossible things, but as the White Queen told Alice in Wonderland, “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” This is the practice of artists and reality-benders alike: to always be pushing at the possibility space, raising the ceilings on what we believe we can have and do with our lives.
As soon as we begin to feel resigned with things being as they are, it is time to resume the practice of pushing into possibility. For me this begins with gratitude: a true recognition of what you do have. This may involve writing a list, counting your blessings and exposures to beauty, but gratitude may also be a ritual act, where you honour what you have by treating it well, tending to it in some way, like cleaning out your wallet, or balancing your checkbook, dusting off your altar and lighting a candle of appreciation for all with which you’ve been blessed.
After gratitude, we must come into conversation with our edge. Where is your longing for more? Have you been honouring that quest by taking steps towards it? Are you working hard or working with intent? Must something die in order for new life to be born? Are you willing to withstand the free-fall of your leap?
For those that might want things to happen quickly, it’s important to remember that a low ceiling may be just what we need as we learn to acclimatise to greater havingness. After all, if we were transported to the top of the proverbial mountain instantly, we would faint from the lack of oxygen. But if we are steady in our climb into possibility, keeping in conversation with our living edge, we can be in a constant state of departure and arrival.