(from Tuesday, 2-9-16) The canal path is white today and the bare tree branches dusted with snow; the flakes come down and greet my eyeballs with a handshake. The simplicity and the beauty of the snow make me think: what do I really want from life? Where will I find my joy? Because I recognize that I have such joy in this simplicity; this morning run on my canal that I’ve done hundreds of times, the gentle flakes falling from the sky, the houses on the canal path that I always imagine myself living in, fantasizing of a life of simplicity and peace as you look out over this waterway every morning with your coffee. What I long for is the complex simplicity of making your home, your life, a place for people to find their peace in or find a community that they belong. What I long for is someone with whom to share all of this. And I realize, as I propel these tired legs forward on a random, beautiful Tuesday, that right now I have all that I need. In this moment, it is complete. And some deep part of me trusts that the next moment will also, somehow, be complete.
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(from Saturday, 2-20-16) Farmer’s Market, Saturday morning. A February morning that makes you believe wholeheartedly in spring before winter strikes again, not ready to fully release us to sunshine and melted streets and birds singing. People file into this old windowless warehouse building, funniest farmer’s market atmosphere I ever saw, for their market goodies before starting the rest of their day. My roommate sells coffee along with free huge hugs and smiles to brighten your day. I go to see her. I love this collection of people who are willing to slow down, savor tastes, and pay a little extra for the real thing. I wish I could be more like them.
Too soon it is time to go, back out to the sunshine, off to my Saturday shift in the library before I am free to run and play in this abundant sunshine. The surprise summer-in-the-end-of-winter puts me in a giddy mood and I cook up plans for how to squeeze every last drop I can from this day. I act as if I won’t have this again forever, and in a way I won’t, if forever means a couple of weeks. I remind myself to let the abundant sunshine rain its abundance on me. There will be days like this again. And right now, live fully into the moment that today is giving me.
Christine Greenwald 
Very honest and descriptive. On both dates you mentioned simplicity. In both cases I found myself wondering If the simplicity that only luxury can afford is really simplicity.
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Yes, explicitly in the first one, implicitly in the second. Tell me more about how it brought you to the thought of luxury?
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Well, I was just thinking that a house on a canal is probably maintains an above average property value. That is when luxury first came to mind. And the requirement of paying more money for a cup of coffee is not the general working class purchase, I wouldn’t think. Though I suppose it all depends on what else one is willing to give up for such things. I suppose that there are many virtues and acquiring one could come at the cost of another, but I can’t help but wonder if simplicity has to do with being content with less.
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Ah, yes, luxuries come in all shapes and sizes, including cups of coffee and homes with easy nature access; it is good to remember one’s privilege if we are able to have those things. You seem to be talking more about economic simplicity. That is legitimate, but I was also thinking in terms of peace of mind and attitude of heart. I think of finding oneself situated in the moment, appreciating nature and the wonders of creation, and contentment with relationships and the sacredness of both solitude (relationship with self) and community (relationship with others). Do you strive for simplicity, and in what form?
On Sun, Feb 21, 2016, 3:27 PM mostofmyfriendsarebooks wrote:
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