Last night I was asked if I am happy. I have been reflecting on my answer — for it depends on how we define happiness.
I am content; sitting on my terrace, the parasol bringing shade, enjoying the sound of water running through the ravine below. I have a chilled Sauvignon, accompanying the garden tomatoes and basil, drizzled with olive oil from Spain… and now, melt-in-the mouth figs (the first of the season) with goat’s cheese from the farm (where I used to work) and jambon de Serrano.
I am at peace, I can say. Happy to sit and appreciate simple pleasures, in alignment with my own desires, or the inner voice that tells me that ‘there is nowhere else I would rather be’ in this moment.
I have no needs, no lack, nothing to strive for — only dreams that are in the process of coming to fruition, for I have the luxury of ‘time to listen to them’. Such is this summer’s day, with a view to the peaks of Canigou and a sense of ‘wellbeing’.
There is no one to impress, nothing to improve, just the act of sharing that which is good — how easy it is to obtain joy from food!
Footnote: A common bond in our region, acknowledgement of the fine produce of the season.