Remember back in January when I imagined a simpler life? I was trying to figure out what it meant to live simply and what that looked like for me. Back then, I imagined this:Lots of light, a good book, and some pomegranate lemonade. I couldn’t think of anything better to give myself than the simple pleasure of time so I could read. I love to read, but for some reason, I’ve always felt guilty about that: “Shouldn’t I be doing something more productive with my time?” “Would it be better if I only read non-fiction?” “Maybe I should stop reading so much and pick up a more lucrative hobby?” But I ignored all those voices and worked hard to simplify my schedule so I could have more time to read.
Then last week, I took this picture:(Please forgive the flip-flops.) What you should notice is lots of light, a good book, and a delicious jamba juice (that was coincidentally pomegranate). The best part is that none of this was staged: at the time, I had completely forgotten about that picture I took in January, but noticing this now makes me feel like I’m doing something right because I’m living exactly the way I imagined.
It’s true that I don’t have the loftiest goals in life: I work part-time in a bookstore, there are very few things that I care less about than money, and the thought of living in anything bigger than a 3-bedroom house puts my teeth on edge. On the other hand: I love my job, I don’t worry about money (even if there is none), and I’ll always be able to afford my mortgage, when the time comes.
And for now, I have time to enjoy simple pleasures, like reading a really good book.
What simple pleasures do you enjoy, even at the expense of more productive pursuits?