If there’s anything this last year has taught me, it’s that investing in the small moments of life is the path to joy. And by small moments, I mean the humdrum of everyday reality… when you’re eating or bathing or cooking (or, of course, fucking). Perhaps I seem like a hedonist, but I prefer to think of the orientation toward sensual pleasure as being deliberately and vibrantly alive. And while at times that vibrance involves a bit of pain (like sorting out my diet and lifestyle changes), it is, on the whole, an unparalleled way to live.
There were times in the past I’d slow down enough to lose myself in an indulgent meal, but I never made a regular practice of savoring the things that sustained me. But now, I need to be creative with my limited dietary options, and the focus on flavor and texture makes me even more appreciative of healthy, delicious food. I notice subtler differences, and I’m experimenting more than I ever used to, and trite as it may sound, I’m really enjoying the process. I mean, I’ve never been big on cooking, but the push to be inventive with my meals has tickled a culinary bone I didn’t think I had.
And, when my hubby and I are working on dinner together, the prepping, cooking, and cleaning are a form of intimacy between us; the dance of working next to and around one another has its own rhythm, and we seem to fall into it naturally. It’s hard to describe, but as we’re wrapping up our work in the kitchen, I feel immensely happy.
Yes, these are just house chores; simple and inconsequential things. But that’s why I find the experience of our partnership so beautiful. It all comes down to small acts being done with great love.
It is the only way to live.