In Praise Of The Simple Things
Sydney Morning Herald
Thursday June 28, 2007
I've watched enough Oprah and Australian Story to know that after people survive cancer or a freak accident involving a slippery tile at the local KFC, they say their priorities in life have changed, they now take pleasure in things they took for granted and they are thankful for every new day.
They've beaten breast cancer or learned to walk or recognise the children again. But I've yet to hear one mention they're running out to buy those black knee-high riding boots that, paired with dark denim straight-leg jeans, will change their lives. Or admit they haven't had time to think about how life is different for them now as they have been too busy working out how many more hours they need to put in at the office to afford Californian shutters for the living room. Taking time to reflect on simple things is seen as a sign of weakness and folly. The domain of survivors, happy clappers, hippies and the kind of people who speak way too close to you in a conspiratorial tone the first time you meet them and then whisper, "You know, my mother always hated me." The rest of us are busy, busy, busy going crazy over phones that play filmclips, act as a personal assistant and go to the toilet for you when you're in the middle of a really good movie. We're studying for MBAs, climbing slippery corporate ladders, keeping in excellent shape with twice-weekly personal training sessions, arguing with neighbours over fence heights, running late for microdermabrasion appointments, worrying about climate change and coveting thy neighbours' converted icebreaker in the Mediterranean.Life is way too complex, hard and demanding to stop and take in the little stuff.Not being a particularly original human being, I am guilty of stacking my life full of complications and wants and needs, all the while ignoring what might give me the greatest pleasure that day. Or at least in that instant. But this winter, something squishy and used made me sit up and take notice. Not my boobs, but my hot water bottle. Along with the nannas of Sydney, I've discovered something really simple that makes you sigh with delight and smile. Perched on my couch with it pressing heat into the small of my back, I love my bottle. And last Sunday when it rained all day I loved going for a walk when it was so cold my nose turned red and started to run, talking to a friend for way too long on the phone, having a glass of crisp white wine at dinner as I pottered in the house putting away shoes and pencils and Lego, then listening to my husband read our children a bedtime story.I've discovered, after a winter of love with my hot water bottle, that simple things have a valuable place in life. I just hope I don't have to have to survive a shark attack to admit it.
© 2007 Sydney Morning Herald
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