“Settle” is a word that inspires images of sugar falling to the bottom of the glass after the spoon swirls it, a house compressing the dirt below it after standing a long time, or one compromising their standards to be finished with it. It inspires an image of a lack of motion, a sort of stopping.

Ten years ago my husband got me an apartment for my birthday: we moved into the lower on the quiet, not-quite dead-end street in Black Rock. It was the most quintessential Buffalo flat. Five years ago in a few weeks, we moved into this house, one we own, in South Buffalo. So this past birthday marked a milestone: a decade in the City of Buffalo.

My husband and I married fairly young, when we were 23, and then we finished our master’s degrees and moved to Seattle, Washington. We were there for three years, deciding it was time to come back when our daughter was born. After staying with my family in the Syracuse metro for the better part of a year, we came to Buffalo chasing jobs. Like sugar being stirred into coffee, everything swirled until it didn’t, until it assumed the form we were creating.

But that previous paragraph suggests a finality that isn’t quite the case. We stopped moving across houses, cities, and states. We did not stop moving- life kept its motion. The kids have been growing and doing things. I’ve been able to participate in some very lovely efforts to make the community better, a lot of them over ten years, different ones as time has passed. Discerning what lanes I want to stay in has meant more that I’m targeting my energy as opposed to decreasing it.

The other night I was driving to a meeting. It was later evening than my meetings ever are because this was the exceptionally infrequent occurrence where I was going to the overnight drop-in center for people who are experiencing homelessness. It was past my bedtime. The city was dark. Downtown Buffalo was empty but alit, the roads like empty arteries. This is the place I’ve chosen to live, I remember thinking to myself.

I was listening to the Moana soundtrack. Don’t judge me – I’ve got kids and Lin-Manuel Miranda writes bangers. The movie is partially about the tension between the islanders’ tradition of staying on the island and Moana’s desire to depart. And in our culture, we’d relate to the primacy of wanting to go. Disney’s character development often relies on a journey. American culture includes the idea of bettering your lot to come here as an immigrant, or to go West if you’re already here. We are obsessed with the idea of progress, which has a prerequisite of looking around and deciding what you see isn’t enough.

There’s a line where the chief of the village is telling Moana that “you must find happiness right where you are.” This is the idea that Moana will rebel against in her hero’s journey. I remember thinking, driving on Oak Street, wait wait wait but I have been finding happiness right where I am.

To be where you are and satisfied is countercultural. Even if you have in your possession of bouquet of blessings, you risk being seen as lazy for being satisfied with it. Dissatisfaction fuels capitalism. Dissatisfaction says more, different, and better. In social progress movements, that’s helpful. In trying to keep plastic out of landfills and happy relationships with spouses, less so.

Satisfaction sows gratitude; gratitude lets you reap joy. Gratitude is the mindset that inspires reduced consumption, a sense of peace when you look at your loved ones, and a sense of joy to appreciate good circumstances. For me, I’ve found that gratitude lets me really enjoy my tulips or the sheer pleasure of being alive, standing outside on an unseasonably warm day, watching the dropping sun.

There is a part of our culture that would treat settling down as a type of death for its lack of drama. I have experienced it otherwise. Ten years ago we settled in Buffalo and threw our energy in with everyone else’s here to build on the city’s loveliness, try to fix its problems, and participate in its community. And having that steady place to return to, with a steady love by my side, has been the mechanism through which I’ve felt truly alive.