contentment
It isn't even really happiness, because "happy" implies a more extreme-type feeling, the kind that takes energy. Feeling content doesn't need any of my energy; it's a quiet, fulfilling, much simpler state of being.
I'm sitting in my papasan under a blanket, with a woodwick candle scented like fall leaves that sounds like a crackling fire, idly alternating between reading, thinking, and just being, watching an army of eight goldfinches (one of whom is the most puffed-up fatty bird I've ever seen) having a gang party at my feeders against the gorgeous backdrop of grey fall skies and the autumn colors of my woods. I don't have any words to describe this simple, pleasant, fulfilled type feeling... Other than: I am content.
I can sit here for hours and watch my leaves fall one by one and it feels right.
I've started calling my weekends "days of worship." I'm sure it's quite heathen of me because I don't mean church or religion; but worship of my home, my surroundings, my self. This time I take to myself to care for my house, my mind, my stress levels and pain levels and mental state -- is there anything more precious to a Taurus than 'worship' of the life they've built?
My darling enormous maine coon has just climbed back into my lap. Porter and I will sit here in blankets and contemplate the dark cloudy sky and count the birds and the leaves that fall. I'm content.
This entry was originally posted at http://seventhe.dreamwidth.org/357554.html, which has
comments. Comment there (with OpenID) or here, it's all good.
I'm sitting in my papasan under a blanket, with a woodwick candle scented like fall leaves that sounds like a crackling fire, idly alternating between reading, thinking, and just being, watching an army of eight goldfinches (one of whom is the most puffed-up fatty bird I've ever seen) having a gang party at my feeders against the gorgeous backdrop of grey fall skies and the autumn colors of my woods. I don't have any words to describe this simple, pleasant, fulfilled type feeling... Other than: I am content.
I can sit here for hours and watch my leaves fall one by one and it feels right.
I've started calling my weekends "days of worship." I'm sure it's quite heathen of me because I don't mean church or religion; but worship of my home, my surroundings, my self. This time I take to myself to care for my house, my mind, my stress levels and pain levels and mental state -- is there anything more precious to a Taurus than 'worship' of the life they've built?
My darling enormous maine coon has just climbed back into my lap. Porter and I will sit here in blankets and contemplate the dark cloudy sky and count the birds and the leaves that fall. I'm content.
This entry was originally posted at http://seventhe.dreamwidth.org/357554.html, which has
comments. Comment there (with OpenID) or here, it's all good.