Sundry Satisfactions

Comfortable. Satisfied. Encouraged. Thankful.

I am all of these and more. There are specific things in my life that make me happy, daily.

I want to lend a glance at these sundry satisfying things in my life.

To start, an honest, stout cup of coffee is required. I always start my day with coffee––black, like oil. I love it recently roasted, freshly ground, and perfectly steeped in a French press.

Coffee is special to me; it is not just an energizing drink. I appreciate the process of making coffee. The smell; the warmth; the taste––marked by fruits, nuts, earth tones, and the perfect bite; I love the radiating rush as it warms my insides and invigorates my brain.

To me, coffee is a special art form.

Music, oh, music… That is a loaded issue. I am unable to be brief on my preferences and appreciation of music. I’ll just say that music compliments every aspect of my emotions, encouraging them, rebuking them, and highlighting them. I am always listening to music.

Frank Sinatra. John Mayer. Mumford & Sons. The Avett Brothers. The Beatles. Lydia. Manchester Orchestra. Ben Howard. Sea Wolf. The Lumineers. Louis Armstrong. Nat King Cole. Jack Johnson. The Postelles. I digress.

I must also add that I prefer music on vinyl record. There is something about the mood when putting on a dusty record––old or new––and sitting down, listening to the needle bump over the grooves the recording studio pressed into it. The sound does add more parts to it that are not always noticed in a digital recording. There is an apparent emotion to vinyl records that never ceases to make my heart encouraged and happy.

Seeing nature at work, moving and growing, without thought given to man makes me happy. I feel insignificant, but I feel connected. I feel like I do not have any control over the movements of nature, but I feel that I belong within it. Seeing a bright royal blue sky in the morning makes me smile. I take my energy from weather, from nature.

Quite in contrast, my favorite activity has happened in Snow Shoe, West Virginia every January for the past three years. Snow shell on, ski boots clipped, ski goggles down, I clip into my skis, and off I go.

Skiing is euphoric.

The frozen air stings my face. I fly down the slopes, carving a path as I slice into the mountain’s powder. Honestly, words fail me. There’s not quite anything like skiing.

One of my deepest loves is the arts.

Books––I quote Longfellow: “The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, and all the sweet serenity of books.”

I love reading. Sherlock Holmes, Les Misérables, The Book Thief, Rebecca, The Count of Monte Cristo. I love so many books.

I love the thrill of the plot and character development. I love analyzing the work of the author––his or her message and the way in which they deployed that message. I love looking at the elements of each piece of literature. A good poem analysis and close reading makes for a great afternoon for me. I could talk about books and criticism for hours, honestly. I have many times.

The same is applicable to movies, videography, and photography. All are different variations of art. If videography and photography were not so difficult to make viable careers out of, I would pursue them professionally. I love them. I have a secret love for the short film. I love movies in general, and everything that goes into them. My favorites are too many movies to list. I can hold a long conversation about what makes a good movie (to me) and what I love about any particular movie.

Art––movies, music, photography, literature––all make me who I am. So much of how I am living today and how I think is anchored in the arts. Art makes me alive, and satisfied, and motivated.

I love many things. I am thankful. I am the result of many things and their influence on me. I am impacted. I am satisfied.