The simple joys are the best ones
Instant gratification is what we want. We want only the best, the most authentic, the top of the line, the cutting edge, the “most.”
The most fun, the most expensive, the most tasty, the most effective, the quickest, the toughest, on and on.
I want to know why people can’t be satisfied with second-best.
It might take a little longer, or it might not give you the most precise results, but it’s close enough, isn’t it?
And why do people have to have the best to be happy? Can’t they appreciate the small stuff?
Why do they feel things like plasma televisions and Lamborghinis and New York penthouses are the key to contentment?
Maybe it’s just me. Speaking for myself, I get more contentment out of sitting in a lawn chair in my backyard looking at the stars on a warm summer night with an iced glass of lemonade in my hand (or no beverage at all, it doesn’t matter) than I would from all the plasma televisions and expensive European cars in the world.
Sitting on a bench in a tree-lined park watching the snow fall makes me happier than standing in line at Disneyland with a lot of sweaty kids and fat people who are waving cheap balloons and stale cotton candy wads in my face.
Standing in a doorway or sitting by a window listening to raindrops pattering on the glass soothes me more than any easy-listening music or cheap “Sounds of Nature” CD could ever hope to.
It doesn’t take much to make me happy — that’s what I’m saying.
I don’t have to be playing video games or listening to some pop band’s latest hit or joyriding around the world on a Learjet to be entertained.
Sure, these things are entertaining, but it’s just as entertaining (and a lot cheaper) to do what I do.
I sit and watch the ants build their hills. Try to remember the names of the constellations. Read history books. Take walks in the woods. Make snowmen in winter, grass-whistles in summer and leaf-piles in fall.
I have a child-like fascination with the world I live in.
Nearly every minute facet holds some degree of amazement for me.
Follow me on one of my walks around campus and you might see me stop short and gaze in absolute stupefaction at the beauty of the sunset. I’ve never seen clouds turn that exact shade of orange and pink at the same time, you see.
Stick me in a museum (any kind), zoo, or library and I’ll happily spend hours, days, or weeks there, soaking up as much knowledge as I can and loving every minute of it.
What bugs me is that no one else does.
The advantageous upshot of having an outlook like I do is that I almost never get bored or depressed. And when I do, it’s only temporary. Something always happens (or I make something happen) that dispels my negative mood immediately.
If I flunk a test, I go take a walk. Or I listen to something melodious and relaxing, maybe not anything modern, maybe something classical, like Strauss. Or I lay on my back in some meadow and cloud-watch.
It’s the simple joys I cherish. If we could all learn to appreciate them, I get the feeling there’d be a lot less strife in the world.
Andrew is a senior studying mass communication.
Columnists' opinions do not necessarily reflect the views of The Spectrum