Little Luxuries
I have tried to write at least six times today. Each time the thoughts skidded to a stop or stalled before they really started. So I moved on to other projects, tasks on the to-do list, and even the dreaded grocery shopping. What started out as a misty, but lovely day has turned into a clear, beautiful afternoon and these are rare in this darkest time of year between the 48th and 49th parallels. I used to struggle with the winter and the dark a considerable amount. And while I still prefer the longer summer days, I am teaching myself to fall in love with the things that can only exist in these darker hours.
Choosing to step away from music as a primary source of income hasn’t healed my relationship with the music or the industry, but it has allowed me to internalize an entirely different rhythm. The new rhythm follows the daylight and watches for the trumpeter swans. It says in a clear, assured tone “there is time,” and quiets the chorus of tight, mingy voices insisting “do it NOW, buy it NOW, announce it NOW. You’re already too late, too old, too tired, too invisible, too expired.” As I mentioned in a previous post, the new pace feels like a luxury.
Luxury is a concept we throw around in the wedding industry without slowing down to turn the word over in our mouths a few times and let it tell us what it is. The word is tied to the soul of the person who speaks it. My luxuries will not be yours and while we may share a few, they will occupy that space for subtly different reasons. My luxuries have changed a thousand times over my lifetime already. But I have intentionally cultivated a few so that I can call them when I most need them. What I call luxuries are maybe what someone else calls self care. To me, luxuries are the thing that I deploy when the dark gets too dark or the road looks very short indeed. They are a way to make something beautiful in the midst of, but not from, the chaos and despair.
There are currently 14 candles flickering around the room while I write. I lit them before it was even dark. They make me happy. Happiness itself feels like a luxury right now. In the summer, I will fill the house with the shortest stems of sweet peas until the fragrance is overwhelming. I step out of my slippers onto the warm bathroom floor and I no longer stub my toes on the edge of a bathtub stepping into my shower. I rarely wear makeup. The boundary of that feels like a luxury. No can be a luxury. Ease is luxury. Calm is luxury. Going slowly is a luxury. And there’s no shame in a small bottle of Chanel Coco Mademoiselle after a solo lunch in New York City every 45 years or so…
