Mindful
Diamond Member
- Banned
- #1
There is an age, and a frame of mind, when we are strong enough to treat luxury with every bit of the disdain it deserves, when we know how to pour rightful scorn on its cost, its futility, most of all its vanity. When we are young and hopeful, we know that there is no need for an overpriced hotel when a hostel can just as well house our dreams. We understand the folly of those overblown seats at the front of the aircraft whose occupants will touch down not a minute earlier. We have a future rich enough
to confuse paid-for kindness with love.
But then there comes an age, more sombre and melancholy in nature, when – if we have any possibility – we may find our Spartan honesty vibrate and start to crumble.
We may invest in the roomier, more plushly carpeted section of the aircraft we’d once dismissed – and discover a happiness deeper than we had ever thought possible. High above the earth, we are looked after by a new friend who has troubled to learn our name and has hung our jacket in a closet with a wooden hanger! As we cross the Tropic of Cancer, as down below in Madhya Pradesh, villages flicker by the light of paraffin lamps, we receive a tray on which an infinitely thoughtful and fascinating-sounding chef has laid out a small bread roll, a lobster tail salad, a filet mignon and what might be the sweetest hazelnut and chocolate cake we have ever tasted – and we may feel the onset of what could be tears at the beauty and kindness that surround us. It is, in its way, like being a child again, ministered to by a devoted parent during an especially vicious fever. But now that parent is dead and we are far from being that little cute creature in elephant pyjamas that no one could hate and who had never done anything seriously wrong.
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to confuse paid-for kindness with love.
But then there comes an age, more sombre and melancholy in nature, when – if we have any possibility – we may find our Spartan honesty vibrate and start to crumble.
We may invest in the roomier, more plushly carpeted section of the aircraft we’d once dismissed – and discover a happiness deeper than we had ever thought possible. High above the earth, we are looked after by a new friend who has troubled to learn our name and has hung our jacket in a closet with a wooden hanger! As we cross the Tropic of Cancer, as down below in Madhya Pradesh, villages flicker by the light of paraffin lamps, we receive a tray on which an infinitely thoughtful and fascinating-sounding chef has laid out a small bread roll, a lobster tail salad, a filet mignon and what might be the sweetest hazelnut and chocolate cake we have ever tasted – and we may feel the onset of what could be tears at the beauty and kindness that surround us. It is, in its way, like being a child again, ministered to by a devoted parent during an especially vicious fever. But now that parent is dead and we are far from being that little cute creature in elephant pyjamas that no one could hate and who had never done anything seriously wrong.
On Luxury and Sadness - The School of Life
We publish articles around emotional education: calm, fulfilment, perspective and self-awareness. | On Luxury and Sadness — Read now
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