But sometimes, seemingly out of nowhere, contentment finds us.
Yesterday was Hard. The aftermath of my hard fall.
Following the Hard, spent several hours stuck in traffic. Not a day I expected to experience contentment.
Irritable and hungry, I stopped for dinner at a quiet bistro ordinarily off my path. There, I discovered Spring truffles, aromatic black truffles, thriving in this year’s heavier-than-normal rainfall. Truffles generously shaved onto pasta, parmesan on the side, and a perfect Pinot noir, subtle and complex.
Contentment snuck up on me as I savored a truly delicious meal in an out-of-the-way oasis.
I drove to the stable where I keep my Arabian mare. She is my touchstone during difficult times. She whinnied, then bowed her head to kiss my hands, our ritual of greeting. We had the barn to ourselves, soft rain pattering on the roof, horses snuffling their hay.
I brushed my mare and rode her alone in the deep quiet, savoring the rhythm of her movement, her kind and gentle spirit. Quiet time with this lovely mare, my dearest friend, is pure contentment.
Life in the present moment, now.
And I thought, perhaps this is when contentment finds us, when we are simply here now, just being, and all else falls away.
When does contentment find you?
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Inspired by Chris Guillebeau, Contentment in Five Short Stories:
*A note on Pacific NorthWest truffles–know your source. Truffles can be harvested from our forests by ethical or by illegal means.