Sometimes it’s the small things
The gray of dawn was still an hour away when he pulled onto the road headed out of town.
A few days to fish lonely streams…
His mind was mostly sorted by the end of the seven hour drive. Lunch was simple with coffee made over a small fire, just enough to boil a pot of water dipped from the stream, and then a few drops to settle the grounds. Within thirty minutes he had caught and released two small browns.
Contentment doesn’t come with requirements…
The crispness of a fall evening in the mountains.
An ocean sunrise.
A little nook to sit and read.
Time alone … and sometimes, time spent with friends.
Some say contentment is a choice.
His mind needed space. Space to roam. Space to explore. Simple. He needed simple because he was complicated. Simple gives room. None of the noise that the stream of information had become. There is a grounding and a freeing that comes with time. Time that is quiet, slow, and uncluttered. Time as space to be.
It doesn’t take much.