The Pleasure of Your Own Company
My grandfather used to call it sinnvolle Freizeitbeschäftigung.
Meaningful leisure.
Even free time, apparently, had to have a purpose.
I still think about that sometimes, especially when I spend an afternoon doing something that achieves absolutely nothing.
Going to a bookshop. Sitting somewhere with a coffee. Walking without needing to get anywhere. Listening to music I already know by heart.
I like doing things on my own.
I also like people. Very much. Good conversation, long dinners, travelling to see a friend, laughing until much too late. Enjoying your own company is not the same as wanting to be alone.
It is simply not needing company in order to enjoy yourself.
And I think that has become easier with age.
So has knowing what I like.
The music. The books. The places. The people.
And, just as importantly, what I don’t like.
There was a time when other people’s appraisal mattered more. Whether something was considered interesting enough, beautiful enough, worthwhile enough. Whether I was spending my time well.
It matters much less now.
Not everything has to lead somewhere.
Rest does not require exhaustion first. An enjoyable day does not need to become productive afterwards. And pleasure certainly doesn’t need an audience.
Sometimes I want company.
Sometimes I want a table for one, a bookshop, a long walk, music at home.
Neither needs explaining.
Maybe my grandfather was right after all.
Although I suspect my definition of sinnvoll would have driven him mad.
Sometimes enjoying your life is useful enough.
Rooted in Depth. Radiating Light.