The Throne of Turtles: When Enough Is Never Enough

In 1958, Dr. Seuss published Yertle the Turtle, a deceptively simple story about a turtle king who orders his subjects to stack themselves into a living throne so he can see—and rule—more of the world. On the surface, it's a children's tale. But like all of Seuss's best work, it's a mirror held up to power, greed, and the fragility of empires built on the backs of others.

Yertle stands atop his tower of turtles, declaring, "I'm ruler of all that I see." But seeing the pond isn't enough. He wants to see beyond the trees. Then beyond the mountains. And when the moon rises, he demands to be king of that too. There is no ceiling to his ambition, no boundary he won't obliterate, no suffering he won't ignore in his climb toward more.

At the bottom of the stack is Mack, a humble turtle whose pain is dismissed, whose pleas for rest are ignored. Seuss writes that Mack dares to ask, "I know, up on top you are seeing great sights, but down here at the bottom we, too, should have rights." Yertle's response? Keep stacking. Keep climbing. The view isn't far enough yet.

And when Mack finally burps—a small, simple act of protest—the entire tower collapses. Yertle falls into the mud, freeing the other turtles.

The Insatiable Climb

We are witnessing this story play out in real time. Not just in politics, though certainly there. But in boardrooms, in social media echo chambers, in every corner where power concentrates and the drive for more consumes everything in its path.

This is not about left or right, red or blue. This is about a mindset—one that never arrives at enough. A mindset that mistakes accumulation for abundance, that confuses dominance with security, that believes the only way up is to step on someone else.

Those who operate from this place are not grounded in the present moment. They cannot be. Because the present moment would ask them to pause, to notice, to feel. And feeling—real feeling, heart-centered feeling—would mean acknowledging Mack at the bottom of the stack. It would mean recognizing that the throne is made of living beings, not stepping stones.

Instead, they look up. Always up. To the next milestone, the next conquest, the next title that will finally, finally prove they are enough. But the moon rises, and still it's not enough. So they curse the moon. They reach for the stars. They demand the galaxy bend to their will.

This is the prison of never enough. And it is a prison, even if it looks like a throne.

When We Build Towers on Others

We've all seen it. The leader who demands loyalty but offers none in return. The person who climbs by stepping on others, who breaks promises the moment they become inconvenient, who cannot connect from a heart space because their entire identity is wrapped up in being the best, the most powerful, the wealthiest, the most seen.

There is no calm in this existence. There cannot be. Because calm requires presence, and presence requires us to stop long enough to notice where we are. But if you're Yertle, recognizing your position means acknowledging the tower of pain beneath you. It means hearing Mack's plea for rights, for rest, for basic dignity.

When we don't know ourselves first, when we haven't done the work of understanding our intrinsic worth, we seek validation externally. We attach our identity to titles, roles, political affiliations, wealth, influence. And when those external markers are threatened, we don't pause and reflect—we double down. We build the tower higher. We ignore the Macks beneath us.

This is not strength. This is fear wearing a crown.

But here's what I want you to consider: We're not just witnessing Yertles in the world around us. We need to ask ourselves a harder question—one that requires us to look inward rather than point outward.

Where are we Yertle in our own lives? And perhaps more importantly, what does it mean to be Mack in a world full of towers?

The answers to these questions—and what happens when we choose connection over conquest—are waiting for you in the full piece on my Substack. Because Yertle's story doesn't end with his fall. And neither does ours.

In the full article, you'll explore:

• The paradox of power built on exploitation (and why Yertle's throne was always an illusion)

• What Mack's burp teaches us about truth-telling and disruption

• How to recognize the Yertle mindset in ourselves—not just in others

• Why the moon rising is an invitation, not a threat

• The choice between building towers and building connections

• What it really means to be "King of the Mud"

• 
  

Namaste, and thank you for reading,

xo

Head to my Substack

Lauri

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