15 delight driven things I practiced this summer
Following the pleasure of your senses works, but only every time.
Developing a regular athletic practice, one that left my body aching in the deeply pleasurable way of deep muscular exhaustion, many times a week.
The meditative, hypnotic practice of knitting.
Alison Roman’s tomato tart, for its second season.
Eating it on my neighbor’s back porch, sharing a beer.
Extremely long phone calls with my friends and with my mother. Often while walking, often while watching the sun set and the clear summer dusk settle.
Bread, butter, and canned sardines.
The sound of many children playing in a shallow brook, dappled light falling on them from the forest canopy.
Learning that (oh, of course! of course!) that the Mexican chalupa comes from the Basque txalupa, which also gave the French chaloupe, a sailing boat first used by the Basque whale hunters of the 16th century in what is now Newfoundland and Labrador.
Watching the sky fill with color and light, very early in the morning, from the comfort of a tent, my children sleeping on either side of me. The rhythm of their breath. The curl in their damp hair.
Singing. Singing with my children as we hike, singing my children to sleep, achieving the unique pleasure of placing your voice just the way you intended, just right, on each note. A lifetime ago, I was part of two semi-professional singing ensembles. I practiced daily and received voice work training. Pleasure number 10b: the feeling of luxury knowing that one’s children are sung to sleep by a clasically trained singer, singing just for them.
Noticing colors. Noticing bold color contrasts and noticing discreet camaieus. Noticing how they make me feel.
Noticing sounds. Being fully present to the gentle shushing of the italian coffee maker, still, every morning.
My husband reading aloud to me at night, after the children are asleep.
My husband. Alive. Watching him cook dinner. Hearing him read to a child in the next room. Alive. Alive. Alive.
