I’m not sure when at first I started noticing my complete love and happiness in the simplest experiences in life. To be honest I’ve always been an anxious person. It is because of this that I have learned to focus on my breathing or counting colors to calm down in the worst of situations. Maybe this caused my love of basic life or maybe not. It’s just a theory I have.
I remember spinning around the living room of our newly built house when I was only two years old. Every chance I had I was spinning until I was dizzy and had to fly to the floor. I wore my sister’s old purple dress our mother had sewn. I really loved that bright violet ray that seemed to seep into my very soul.
I remember staring at my hand as I moved my wrist around in circles. This practice was a daily activity when I was around five years old. I would stare in amazement at the way my fingers could move, while my wrist did something completely opposite. This incredible limb was mine. My mind was controlling this extension on its own ideas. How completely absurd this seemed to me then. Even now I will move my hand in what I hope is a very sensual movement but may possibly just look like a flailing root in the lake water disturbed by a boat. Something so ordinary is the most beautiful to me.
It’s important to love the ordinary. We live in this world where nothing but the extraordinary is wanted. No one wants okay, somewhat, or maybe. We want amazing, yes, lovely, something more than ourselves. We never have enough and we probably never will. Of course even I fall into this trap. Maybe if we just watch the willow sway in the wind, we might just be happier. If that’s what brought us peace, we would not work ourselves to death to milk more and more from our sweat and tears.
Take a breath, sip some tea or coffee, and love what you have. Better yet, love yourself as you are.