It doesn’t take much to please me. I’m a cheap thrill kinda girl. One of the simple things I enjoy in life is to sit in a quiet corner of a library and indulge in a book or just to write to my heart’s content but lately, such indulgence has whittled down to such a minutiae degree due to life and its responsibilities getting in the way.
Nonetheless, I have to create the space to satisfy these cravings of mine and I must find the time to write even if I have to steal it from somewhere ‘cos I observed that any week I failed to visit the library at least once, a part of me knows abject discontent. It took me a while to recognize and understand this – during one of my self-help sessions.
For me, this simple act of finding time to write or to immerse myself in a book is a form of therapy on a different level and over the years, wherever I’ve lived, one of the first thing that I do without fail is to locate the bookstore, the nearest library and then the grocery stores.
So, as I sit in this library surrounded by books, the only sound I can hear is the squeaky wheels of the trolley as a librarian shelves the books, I feel a lift in my spirit and can almost feel the trickle of dopamine sending happiness signals into every part of me. My heart knows such contentment. I sip my chai latte and grasp the momentary pleasure with both hands of gratitude.
I’m currently reading Two by Two by Nicholas Sparks.