Standing in the offices of an impossibly cool Chicago interior design firm, about six years ago (back when we used to do hideous things like go to people’s offices to meet in person—remember those dumb days?), I stumbled across these words tacked up on my client Aimee’s wall:

“All I Ever Wanted Was Everything.”

The words were scrawled in a jaunty pink font and they stirred me. Intrigued me. Seduced me! I couldn’t stop thinking about them. Is it possible to have a crush on a string of words? (Of course it is; that explains why you keep re-reading my book, you fellow word nerd, you.)

All we ever wanted was a fushsia-colored migraine-inducing bedroom. Check!

When The Husband and I were moving to Palm Springs a few years ago, we knew it was time to bring these words to life by way of a borderline-tacky neon sign. (Palm Springs begs for everything to burn hot in neon pink, preferably accompanied by an electric buzzing sound that announces its fabulous, shocking pinkness.) We edited the “I” in “All I Ever Wanted” to “We,” because that’s the attitude that keeps us married, and our five-foot-wide custom-made neon sign was promptly ordered on Etsy. (Hanging it above our bed was a bitch but no one said a life of hot pink seduction was easy.)

I admit to being morally conflicted about the sign, though.

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything.

On one hand….

Everything! That’s a lot, right? Like, by definition, it’s all of it. ALL THE THINGS.

Doesn’t that sound greedy? Grabby? Not just some of it, but all of it? Really? Does us having all of it mean that there’s less to go around and that others don’t get as many donuts, for example, because we got all of them? We took all the apple fritters? I don’t want to be a fritter hog. Can’t we all have as many fritters as we want? Minus the diabetes that might accompany a dozen fritters a day?

And what would the spiritually centered people who promote the “less is more” ethos think? Last I checked, they are not in our bedroom judging what goes on over our bed (ew, that came out wrong), and nor should I care about their assessment of moi, but still… there is a school of thought that eschews More. Lots of people I know and respect extoll the virtues of Less. My friend Ross, who is writing a cool book about all this Less-ness, just taught me about Taoism and I’m certain the minimalist Tao people now have me on a watch list. Me thinks that my neon sign just got me banned from Team Tao.

On the other hand…

Everything! You’re damned tootin’ right about All The Things!

Why settle for less that all the things we can work for, strive for, get excited about, and anticipate with unbridled enthusiasm? Life’s too short to go for some of it, when we can grab it by the balls and go for all of it! No one ever got inspired by a hot pink neon sign that read, “All We Ever Wanted Was A Ham Sandwich (Before We Died a Sad and Underwhelmed-With-Life Death).” That sign would be eerily quiet. No sizzly sounds of electricity when you plug that Etsy creation into the wall socket. (Also, based on character count, it would be a really expensive sign, so for that reason, I’m out.)

Notes/ thoughts/ musings on this Everything topic:

What if it wasn’t a zero-sum game, where each one of us getting everything doesn’t mean that others are automatically lining up for day-old fritter crumbs? What if you getting everything is possible and me getting everything is possible and that guy down the street getting his everything is possible, too? Either because our versions of everything are different enough (like you might want fritters and I might want the maple glazed donuts, so there’s enough for us both) or because the concept of “everything” is inherently baked into the spirit of abundance and there will be enough “everything” to go around, so let’s all just calm down about the donuts? (I said I’d be okay with maple glazed but I want the apple fritters, too. I already feel tension in the donut line.)
What if the message of the “All We Ever Wanted Was Everything” sign wasn’t about material acquisition? “Everything,” to the well-trained-western-culture-consumer, sounds like purchase power—what we can stuff into our cars and then stuff into our closets and cupboards and jewelry boxes when we get home. I don’t read this neon sign as a proclamation of conspicuous consumption (you know: when you buy shit so everyone can see it, then admire you, and then you have to keep buying things with logos/ carats/ whatever makes for an Instagram-worthy post just to stay afloat on the Ocean of Everything). I interpret “Everything” as an intoxicated by possibility way of being… so much more than an inventory list of what we own or have in the bank.

Bottom line #1: we can all get excited about our relative pursuits of “everything.” There is room for all of us to go for our dreams and goals. I don’t have to worry that me getting everything means I fucked you in the process. I can go after my career aspirations (OMG I want to host a TV show!) and maybe get some fancy PJs (why are nice, soft jammies so expensive and elusive?) and there will still be room for you to forge your own cool career and get your own damned PJs. (But if you find nice jammies for tall gals, I need to know about them.)

Bottom line #2: “everything” can be what you want it to be. Maybe All We Ever Wanted Was Everything for you IS about all the toys. Then go find a way to buy all the toys! While working with a great therapist to help you work through wanting to buy all the toys! And for the rest of us, we can get a few toys (jammies) and also figure out what a Life of Everything looks like. That sounds like it’s important enough to start a new section called “What Is a Life of Everything?”

“What Is a Life of Everything?”

I’m glad you asked.

The hell if I know!

I’m not arrogant enough to suggest what your best life looks like. But here are a few ideas of what might feel right for you:

Everything might be about putting the effort into reaching your potential… actually reaching said potential might not even be necessary, because it’s the “I gave it a go” spirit that counts.
Everything might be about hope for a brighter future… a belief that better times are ahead and they’re sure as shit going to involve you.
Everything might be about participating in your life… showing up early &/or late, trying the paella-making class, painting your nails that robin’s egg blue, playing truth or dare and not always copping out with truth, being the kind of person you’d be delighted to meet.
Everything might mean being brave enough to change things in your life that feel stiflingly comfortable.
Everything might be making a grand sweeping gesture to prove you’re alive (to yourself)… like moving to Portugal (hi Paula!) or onto a houseboat.
Everything might be setting goals that scare you just enough to entice you to actually go for them.
Everything might be an ironic play at downsizing the crap out of your life… selling/ donating/ gifting all the stuff that would give Marie Kondo a rash and living in serene simplicity. (OMG please tell me you loved that “I blame it on my elegance” line in by Richie in The Bear [S04, E01]?)
Everything might capture the innocence of wanting the world… and the heartbreak of realizing the world doesn’t always want you back. Maybe it’s the play-it-on-repeat melancholy soundtrack of growing up? In a beautifully poignant way?

It’s not lost on me that “All We Ever Wanted Was Everything” is written in the past tense, as though the end of the has been reached and it’s time to glance over our shoulders and sum up our 4,000 Mondays. Would the tone be one of wistful regret, like “we wanted good things for ourselves but we squandered it all to hell,” or would it be like, “we went on all the rides, all night long, with our hands up in the air, didn’t we baby? We killed it”.

Everything appears to be jam-packed with yearning. Let’s figure out what we’re longing for—in this life that ain’t so long—and go after it. In a hot pink sizzly way, no less?