Why it can be helpful to have two bowls: one for joy and the other for sorrow.
Sometimes the most helpful images come from the simplest things.
For me, it was two bowls.
The idea didn’t come to me in a seminar room, nor while I was writing a proposal.
It came about in a moment of mindfulness, because I had noticed during my coaching sessions that some people didn’t truly notice moments of joy or happiness—or even certain positive aspects of their lives. They passed by almost without being noticed or appreciated, and it occurred to me that it might be nice and helpful to have a vessel for the good and beautiful things in one’s own life. And as this thought came to me, I reflected on how suffering—or at least the sensation of suffering—spreads so quickly and so widely. So very different from how joy does.
Then I started thinking that I would need two bowls.
The first bowl is for joy.
Many people—myself included—have long learned to analyze problems, understand difficulties, and endure suffering. Yet we often treat joy with surprising indifference. It flits through the day like a brief ray of sunshine between the clouds. We notice it—and move on.
Over time, I realized: Joy needs space. Attention. Appreciation.
So, in my mind, I deliberately place beautiful moments in this first bowl. A meaningful conversation. A laugh. A moment of connection. A small victory. Something that touches me or nourishes me.
The bowl doesn’t fill up all at once. But it reminds me that joy wants to be seen. That it isn’t something to be taken for granted. And that it grows when we make room for it.
The second bowl is for suffering.
Here, too, something fundamental has changed. I used to feel that suffering could overwhelm everything. A difficult issue, a disappointment, a worry—and suddenly it would take up all the space inside me.
The second shell helps me come to terms with this suffering.
I imagine placing whatever is weighing heavily on me right now into this bowl. Not to push it away. Not to downplay it. On the contrary: the pain is given attention. It is allowed to be there. It is acknowledged.
But there are limits to it.
It’s in the shell—but not everywhere.
This simple idea makes a surprising difference. It allows me to take suffering seriously without letting it take over my entire inner life. It has its place, but it doesn’t take up all the space.
And whenever I work with people—whether through coaching, conversations, or live coaching sessions—I see time and again just how powerful these inner images can be. They bring order to an emotional landscape that would otherwise quickly become chaotic.
The two bowls are my tools…
…and at the same time, they remind me that both are part of life: joy and sorrow.
But they also remind me that I can decide how much space each of them gets.
Joy sometimes needs more attention than we usually give it.
And sometimes suffering needs a clear container so that it doesn’t completely overwhelm us.
Perhaps that is one of the quiet keys to inner balance:
not just experiencing life, but also giving it a container.
Carsten
Image from ChatGPT
