Indulgent Simplicity

Life has a way of tearing me in two.

Between a simple life and the one I’ve been enticed to want. 

Our greatest gift and greatest curse as humans is (arguably) our autonomy. The responsibility we have to decide is noble at best & overpowering at worst. It’s not necessarily an exhaustive list of choices that overwhelms us but the existence of more than one really good, equally appealing ones.

It’s how I feel about choosing a way in which to lead life. 

Simplicity vs. indulgence

They both feel pretty damn good

Which makes it so hard to choose

Just before I left on another trip abroad, I had the quintessential boozy and bougie Saturday. It consisted of brushing the boughs of the upwardly mobile neighborhoods of Philly, doing the well-to-do things like an exclusive fitness class, sipping champagne as my bestie and me were attended to in a bridal boutique, and an excessive amount of overpriced food and drinks to euphorically lubricate the experience. It’s a great fkn day.

It’s a day that smugly says, “I made it”. These days are for living, but that doesn’t mask the effort it takes to get there. Not pictured: the stress and pressure to fashion myself a certain way, to make and spend money, and the “need” to enhance the experience with alcohol.

Fast-forward a week & I’m living in a rustic home in the rural Colombian countryside. It’s a full day's ride to Bogotá or Medellín and I’m 15 minutes away from the closest town. 

The charm lies in the purity of life to be lived in such a manner.

I manually grind my coffee each morning, churning fresh beans and an even fresher energy into the start of a new day. I tilt the lighter on its side to get the flame going for the moka pot and then watch the shifting lights of dawn through the kitchen window as I wait for the coffee to percolate. We hand wash & prepare fresh, finca to table veggies & fruits when we break bread around noon. My host offers homemade workout equipment for weight training & has recently constructed a half-completed deck that I do yoga on. When we’re low on crema de leche we watch for the bus to crest the hill so we can run down to catch it into town. I ride backwards so that I can watch the green hills spilling out before the doors that are left wide open.

It’s the kind of natural beauty that knocks the breath out of me, but in a soft, endearing way…in a way that keeps me in an eternal state of awe, my most favorite state of being.

I double my sleep just by being in such proximity to serenity. The muscles in my face release, soften & relax as I seamlessly drift off to sleep for 9-10 hours. My body sheds the stress it’s been storing for whatever destructive reason it invented. 

There is a stillness that holds a permanent residence here and, therefore, me. What I spend in two weeks is what I often spend in one day in the States. I’m greeted every morning by Carmen, one of the dogs, who charges toward me to jump up to give me a hug. The cat accompanies me in the bathroom as she waits for me to turn on the sink so she can drink from the tap. Then, she curls up on my lap as I precariously balance my laptop over her sleeping body so that I can work. I learn that chickens are even more curious than cats & get into way more trouble and messes than I could have imagined. 

These days are filled with soft moments that tug at my heart. It’s a place where I see the foolishness of making life complicated, when it really can be simple.

To me, the ease is bliss. The slowness is paradise. It’s so simple it’s indulgent and rich. 

There is a price to pay, of course, for such a life.

Not pictured: the discomforts of the uncivilized. I wait stark naked in 50-something degree temperatures for the shower to get warm. Most of the time it does. Some of the time, it doesn’t. I wrap afghans around me like a cape that drapes behind me as I walk. My clothes smell worse than before I washed them because they simply couldn’t try, despite being hung on the clothesline for 4 days. The animals are as equally happy in their wild as they are in their filth. I grab their paws to keep them from ruining my clothes. I sadly forbid the cat from entering my room because she’s claw to elbow in dirt and mud.

Both ways of living have their price and it's only reinforce that’s not so much the side of grass we choose, but how we decide to lie in it. It matters less what it is than how it feels within us.

The comparison between my time here & in the states is vast. They are equally enjoyable and fulfilling. Each has one leg up over the other in some formation, but one is not better than the other. One can only be better than the other based on the viewpoint of the experiencer.

Each boasts a life that I want, that makes me feel good. Their allure moves me past choosing between the two and into the territory of

How do I have both? 

How do I create a life that’s lived with indulgence and simplicity?

And when I look at the life I’m creating, I already know I’m well on my way.