Luxury

When I looked up the actual definition of the word LUXURY, I found this:

• something that is an indulgence rather than a necessity

To me, it means something different. Penelope in The Shell Seekers, one of my go-to books when I have nothing else in the house to read, described it as "the total fulfillment of all five senses at once". She felt warm, she touched her lover's hand, she smelled the sea and frying onions, tasted cold beer, and heard gulls and water lapping.

I get that. Even after an exhausting night with a sick kid (back in March), I felt it.

Luxury feels sensory to me.

Cool breeze in the hot sun.
Red wine with a chocolate cupcake.
Climbing into crisp, freshly laundered sheets after a hot shower.
Crunchy leaves underfoot on a bright, brisk autumn day.
Cracking open the spine of a brand new book that you just know is going to be soul-satisfying.
Seeing an astounding view of mountains or ocean after panting and sweating up a non-trail that English hubby insists is just a short hike.
Being stone-cold sober but feeling like you're experiencing an acid flashback while lying on the hard ground in Death Valley looking up at the almost painfully mind-boggling constellations with no city lights to dim them for miles up on miles.
Not that I would know what an acid flashback feels like.
Blissful free time with nothing on the agenda.

Okay, that last one isn't strictly sensory, but it opens up the opportunity for all kinds of luxury. And is a reminder that I need to stop once in a while and be content right-here right-now. As I said to someone recently, I need post-its all over the house to remind me.

But don't think I'm poo-pooing the idea of indulgence. Because by golly I do embrace that kind of luxury as well. And later this week, I'll be sharing a little video I cut together recently for a local artisan. It's the sweetest story ever. And there will be a giveaway. An indulgence. A luxury. Because we all need that kind too.

sneak peek