The Art of Indulging
Here are a few non-indulgent things I used to do:
Sneak marshmallows in the bathroom.
Not buy fresh flowers because it seemed a foolish way to spend money.
Decline invitations for spontaneous weekend hiking trips; it's not a good use of my time, I told myself.
Each one of these things shoved guilt and shame in where indulgence could have bloomed.
We aren't taught to indulge. We're taught to have some restraint, resist temptation, believe most pleasures are guilty ones.
So today, let's reclaim indulgence.
Let's teach ourselves to slow down and really savor, relish, publicly and joyously delight - in a slice of fine cheesecake, a slow evening walk despite the unanswered emails and unreturned calls, buying those front row seats when our favorite comedian comes to town.
And when the plate is empty, the walk is done, the curtain has dropped, we will be fully sated. Because we didn't sneak it, deprive, shame, blame ourselves. We gave ourselves permission to enjoy it.
This week, I will buy myself a bouquet of flowers. It's money that could be more practically spent. But I will not love that $15.99 the way I will love those flowers on my bedside table. I will not get joy from that $15.99 the way I will from the lilies that crane their petals towards the sun.
And when the flowers are limp and dry, when the lily petals sag and fall to the floor, I will be sated. Because I allowed myself to fully and utterly indulge in them.
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