As I’ve previously shared, I have a worrying nature. And with it comes a deep craving to control what may—or may not—happen.

It usually starts from a well-intentioned place: genuine care, empathy, and concern. But then, whether my suggestions are needed or requested… I’m off to the races. Researching. Advising. Counseling. Butt-ing in.

As part of the habit transformation work I’m teaching in my mindfulness class, I’m also doing the work myself—transforming behavior-based habits in real time. This month, our focus is on gratitude as a way of letting go of craving. In my case, a craving for control and certainty in the face of change.

Here’s the thing I’m learning (again!): gratitude doesn’t mean skipping the uncomfortable feelings. Quite the opposite. You actually have to feel them more fully. You have to sit with the sadness, the anxiety, the wanting—long enough to meet them with compassion. Otherwise, gratitude becomes a kind of spiritual bypass:

“Look on the bright side.”

“At least it’s not worse.”

“You have so much to be grateful for.”

You know the drill.

Recently, people I care deeply about found a beautiful new place to live. It’s genuinely wonderful for them. And yet, it stirred something tender in me—not loss, exactly, but a longing. A desire for a kind of family retreat. A place where we could gather, connect, and be together.

There’s a healthy way I hold that desire: envisioning woods or water, lake or forest; doing some relaxed, open-hearted research; staying curious and receptive. It feels expansive. Alive. Grounded.

But suddenly, there was another way.

I found myself on Zillow like it was an Olympic sport. Frenzied. Urgent. As if the world were running out of possible places, and I’d better act fast. The energy shifted from desire to craving—from spacious to tight, from hopeful to anxious.

Mercifully, drawing on the wisdom of Hugh Byrne, I noticed the moment I crossed that line. I recognized the scarcity story driving my behavior. And instead of justifying it, I paused.

What emerged was compassion—for myself, and for the deep wanting underneath it all. The “place,” I realized, was just a metaphor. What I truly wanted was connection. From there, I could “change the channel” from craving to gratitude: gratitude for caring this deeply, for family that matters so much, and for each person’s unique path and timing.

And just like that, the obsession loosened. Acceptance settled in. Joy even made an appearance.

This is a lifelong practice, I’m sure. But this week, I’m grateful for the reminder.

And yes—I did close Zillow. 😌

Here’s to noticing when desire turns into craving—and having the courage to close the browser window.