Less miserable

I grew up active and playing.  Then . . . I really grew up and learned I was supposed to go for the burn!  Push harder!  Don't stop till you drop!  The one who gets to heaven with the most stuff wins.  The magic dream is to have a mortgage I can't quite afford, cars that aren't paid off, more clothes than I could possibly wear in a year, a subscription to add two pairs of shoes to my wardrobe every month, the most modern update of every electronic device imaginable and enough medical tests to kill an elephant in the hope that life will be eternal.

It made me ashamed to live in an apartment with one rather small closet, a thirteen year old car, one computer, a phone, a camera and three pairs of shoes.

Walking twenty minutes a day seemed shameful because it wasn't at a gym on a two thousand dollar treadmill and I only ache a bit when I do it -- not burn.

I volunteer because I find full time jobs suffocating and I can afford to -- if I am willing to live within my means.

I cannot buy my children and grandchildren car loads of presents, but I do spend a considerable amount of time picking out what I can give them. 

I don't buy many souvenirs, but I take tons of pictures.

And today, as I walked around the goose pond looking at creatures who only own the feathers on their back and two webbed feet, it occurred to me that I like my lifestyle very much.

Finding the joy and love comes to each of us on different levels and whatever that is for me, has to be okay even if it isn't what it is for you. It only marks me as different -- not less successful, or less happy, or less anything -- except possibly less miserable.