"Allow yourself the uncomfortable luxury of changing your mind", I read this morning here and here.
It makes sense. If change itself is inevitable, then the change within must be as well, if only as a progression or reactionary process. For one, I have recently begun drinking coffee, a drink I have firmly stood against for most of my life (for reasons of unbased loyalty towards a good old cup of Darjeeling tea).
This seems minor to you, but it comes from deep stirrings within a sea of change.
Don't get me wrong, I have always loved the smell of coffee, for obvious reasons. Nothing can be more comforting on a rainy day. But I have never taken to drinking it. Like, actually, really enjoying it. Something about a childhood distaste for milk and a general absence of anything but instant coffee in the environs. But almost as hard as I've tried to keep myself away from what I perceived to be a yuppie obsession with tall, extravagant, caffeinated drinks, I just as easily re-discovered the warm, gentle feeling of satisfaction I got from a good cup of coffee somewhere along the course of this year. Milk steamed just right, espresso poured over, and a single cookie to nibble on while you wait for it to cool. Not difficult at all to grow into this feeling of luxury, one cup at a time. To grow into, in other words, the idea that I do deserve good things. That I do deserve to treat myself. That my world won't implode if I give to myself as much as I sometimes find myself giving to others.
Seems simple, right?
A lot has changed for me in the past few months, and I'm sure a lot will change in the coming ones. In as positive ways, hopefully. In ways that will take me closer to that eternal, infernal, unfindable goal of living a self-actualised life. And yet not quite get me there, because where would we be if we stopped searching, changing, moulding ourselves and our preferences?
Not so far from where we started, that's what.
It makes sense. If change itself is inevitable, then the change within must be as well, if only as a progression or reactionary process. For one, I have recently begun drinking coffee, a drink I have firmly stood against for most of my life (for reasons of unbased loyalty towards a good old cup of Darjeeling tea).
This seems minor to you, but it comes from deep stirrings within a sea of change.
Don't get me wrong, I have always loved the smell of coffee, for obvious reasons. Nothing can be more comforting on a rainy day. But I have never taken to drinking it. Like, actually, really enjoying it. Something about a childhood distaste for milk and a general absence of anything but instant coffee in the environs. But almost as hard as I've tried to keep myself away from what I perceived to be a yuppie obsession with tall, extravagant, caffeinated drinks, I just as easily re-discovered the warm, gentle feeling of satisfaction I got from a good cup of coffee somewhere along the course of this year. Milk steamed just right, espresso poured over, and a single cookie to nibble on while you wait for it to cool. Not difficult at all to grow into this feeling of luxury, one cup at a time. To grow into, in other words, the idea that I do deserve good things. That I do deserve to treat myself. That my world won't implode if I give to myself as much as I sometimes find myself giving to others.
Seems simple, right?
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| Making the simple things special: an espresso macchiato, for me with love. |
Not so far from where we started, that's what.
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