Simplicity in the way of being

If I were to cast a long and careful glance in the past, I would definitely be able to see an almost painful longing for a different way of being. I knew what it was back then, but I knew it only at the emotional level, not exactly aware of the whereabouts of all those feelings of craving for something else, for what I did not have, a rebellion against a wave of thoughts and actions which, though being mine, I did not accept as being truly representative of who I was or what I wanted.

I have always been fond of the simplicity: in food, in clothes, in the relationship with others, in all approaches of life. And when I saw simplicity, I would fall in love with it. Because being simple in your very nature means being satisfied with life, even being grateful that you are alive. I cannot think of a better existential perspective. The struggle for a more positive view on life has marked my whole existence so far. I've been looking for reasons as long as I can remember, and I've got quite good memory. Am I the contrast of simplicity? No, not exactly. Would simplicity save me? It definitely would.

A conformity to the given state of things offers more satisfaction in what one does and goes through. The more pretenses we have in life, the more we want to achieve, the less happy we are with everything. There is no end to our aspirations, the moment we reach a certain goal, another takes its place and so it goes forever. I have met people who were so far behind others in terms of success and personal achievements, but who would prove to be models of optimism, of wonderful optimism. My deep admiration goes to them. A movie I have recently seen reminded me again of how fortunate one can be if one finds simplicity and makes it a friend for life.