Hello Friend,
I know that ultimately life is complicated and difficult at least some of the time. I know that challenges are what make one grow. But still, I have been fixating lately on the idea of a simple life. I think this feeling makes sense in today’s world that feels very maximalist and fast, in which we are always being advertised at and told to do things, in which we have access to infinite people’s innermost lives, but also only what they curate to show to us. I don’t think it is good for my brain to know so much about what other people are thinking and doing. I can get caught up in a loop of comparing myself to others if I’m not careful. I can start to feel agitated and like I must argue my side of things, but if I faced the same disagreement in person, I would be more likely to choose to avoid conflict, because it actually does not matter that Tony doesn’t like vegetarianism.
In trying to navigate this overwhelming world, I have found that what makes me feel best is stepping away from all of it and hiding in the woods, returning to activities that involve fewer screens (if only because the screens hurt my eyes so much), and seeking things that feel simple. Things that immediately make sense to me. Like going for a walk and sitting outside to watch and listen to the birds. I see and hear the birds and suddenly I am filled with joy. Simple. There are no layers of meaning or socialization to think through (except we can ascribe meaning to birdwatching if we want). I recently entered the world of macrame (I made two hanging plant holders) and this activity seems simple and fulfilling to me. As I am tying the knots, I suddenly feel connected to humanity because people have always been making cord and then tying it into something useful. I don’t know if I can describe this one properly. I was going to bring up another example of saving a pumpkin seed from a pumpkin you bought from a farmer’s market or that a friend gave you to plant later. There’s something about seed saving that really gets me. I’ll write more about that later, because I have other plants for today.
I am writing an indulgent short story that depicts what I reckon might be an ideal day, a healing day, a simple day. I’m just going to have fun with it.
The Day
The sun is yawning when I awake. The world is weakly lit. I do not always wake with the sun, but when I do, it is a good day. Especially in the winter. It’s something about being present for all of the light the day has to give. The cat is curled at my feet and greets me when they see me stir. Good morning. I lay for a few moments, watching the sky brighten my room. I can almost hear the chickens clucking through the window, wishing to be out in the early morning, and I cannot make them wait. I stretch my way out of bed, slipping on thick socks because I do not want the floor to suck away the heat I have built in myself overnight. I throw a coat over my pajamas and grab the bucket of food scraps from the kitchen. Add to this boots at the door and I am out, crunching through a thin layer of snow that gathered overnight, opening the coop, greeting chickens as the pour out into the chilly morning. It is not so cold or I am used to it. My breath fogs before me as I throw the scraps and scratch on the ground for the birds. I watch the chickens for a moment as they peck at my boots. They are hungry. So am I.
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