The Case for Marshmallows

In the evenings, I've been reading a book that has absolutely no edifying qualities. 

It's sweet, easy to digest, requires no effort. It's pure marshmallow. 

And there's a part of me that feels lazy for reading it. There are only 24 hours in the day; I should do something worthwhile with every single waking one, right? Like take care of those emails, finish up that project, chip away at that piece I'm writing, read a better book. 

But somewhere in our waking hours, there must be time spent not working. There must be time for the sweet and easy, the effortless. The stuff that we don't do to impress, but to decompress. 

Otherwise, we risk clenching so tightly onto our work, we have no freshness to bring to it. And, perhaps more dangerously, no sense of ourselves without it. 

Marshmallows come in all forms. Watching cookings shows of stuff we'll never make or playing Uno. Reading Calvin & Hobbes, The Far Side, design magazines. It helps to stay away from our devices. And whatever our sweet and easy fluff is, it helps to take it regularly. 

The case for marshmallows is really the case for our own equilibrium, that sense of weight distributed somewhat evenly across our life. There's no surefire path for accessing it. For me, though, a daily marshmallow consistently brings me closer to it. 

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