Last year, I committed to a year of sacred simple pleasures. I cultivated joy. I indulged in the little things that delighted me. I embraced the sacredness of pleasure. Sounds fun, right? And it was…once I got past the hangups I unwittingly nourished over the years. You know the ones: I should be working. This is all just silly stuff. It’s a guilty pleasure. I don’t have time for this. Other people enjoy this so I should too. I couldn’t just enjoy something without these ugly thoughts cropping up. In short, as I started this journey into the sacredness of pleasure, I realized that I had a complicated relationship with pleasure.
I like to blame this on puritan culture and run-of-the-mill religion that makes us feel guilty for enjoying anything that feels good. I also had to come to terms with the fact that, as a successful woman of color, I often came up against feelings of guilt or impostor syndrome that told me I wasn’t allowed to enjoy myself. Sick, right? It’s the epitome of everyday gothic when your inner saboteur comes out because the idea of bliss is a scary thing to hold onto. You begin to hold yourself back before others can do it all in some vague attempt to keep yourself safe from whatever the world wants to throw at you, the transgressive bruja that is living proof that minorities can not just survive, but thrive. Honestly, I’m like a walking threat to puritan values and toxic patriarchy!
Once I cleared through all that muck, however, I was able to indulge in the sacredness of simple pleasures. I learned a lot about myself as I explored what was truly pleasurable to me and what wasn’t. It was like a year of relearning what it means to experience joy, from the small quiet joy of brewing a pot of tea, to the loud silly joy of playing hide and seek with my niece. I learned how to give myself permission to not work, to rest. I made room for things and experiences that had no value other than that they made me smile. And I learned that I had to completely upend the notion of pleasure before I could experience its sacredness. This revelation can be boiled down to five truths I learned from my year of cultivating sacred simple pleasures.
What I thought would be pleasurable often wasn’t. Okay, calling on the sympathy of all introverts here, I’m embarrassed to admit that when I first started the year, my idea of pleasures conjured up more extroverted activities. Going out with friends, dancing all night, filling up my weekends with out-there stuff. And while some of that was fun (I enjoy a night on the dance floor as much as the next woman), I found that much of it felt like I was performing.
I could never quite recharge and found myself starting the work week with an empty battery and no energy to enjoy my cozy daily routines. I realized when I stepped back to look at things, that I was relying on what the extroverted world said I should be enjoying, versus what I was actually enjoying. Mainstream culture’s notion of pleasure is not my notion of pleasure….aside from the occasional turn about the dance floor.
Quiet is delicious. So there I was a few months into the year, having to completely reframe my approach to pleasure. It wasn’t a loud, splashy thing. It wasn’t about being surrounded by people or chasing experiences. It was about listening to myself and my needs. And yeah, sometimes that meant being surrounded by people and chasing a new experience. But more often than not it was about giving myself permission to be quiet.
In the quiet, I found that I was able to unplug from this fast-paced world and tune into myself. I experienced surprising revelations that I wouldn’t have otherwise discovered if I’d continued on my path of loud, fast, busy. I reconnected with old parts of myself that I’d thought long gone. They’d only been in deep hibernation. My creativity and intuition blossomed under the soothing blam of quiet. I connected more deeply to life’s natural rhythms and, as a result, found greater peace in my daily goings-on.
Slowing down is an essential part of enjoying life. With quiet comes a slower pace. It takes time to settle in and indulge in something. Simple pleasures can’t be rushed. I’d begun to see that having a full to-do list or social calendar kept me from actually enjoying myself. It often left me disconnected from self and soul. In fact, I found that busy, busy is a great way to avoid yourself and the things you need to work through.
I pretty quickly had to come to grips with the fact that, despite my best efforts, I can still be prone to overworking. But when I made a conscious effort to do less, I was rewarded with the time and space to clear out fo stagnant energy, outmoded ways of being, and the yuck I’d internalized from a world that isn’t comfortable with magical women of color. I replaced them with things that made me feel beautiful, stories that made me hopeful, and experiences that proved just how powerful pleasure can be.
Pleasure stirs up all sorts of unexpected emotions. Here’s the thing about enjoyment. When you create space for it in your life, you also make room for other emotions that bubble up as you begin to relax and open yourself to the softer, gentler things in life. Sadness, when you begin to realize that you’ve unconsciously denied yourself certain pleasures. Shock, when you realize how armored you’ve kept yourself—healthy boundaries are VERY important, but it’s equally important to remember to stay open to the good stuff. Guilt when you’re enjoying yourself a little too much…but there’s no such thing as too much, so then you feel anger at how you’ve let those pesky puritanical norms snake their way into your brain and make you doubt your own joy.
See what I mean? I’ve got a complicated relationship to pleasure, or rather, the way society tries to manage and contain it and, sometimes, to crush it. This year taught me that I’ve had to consciously nourish and protect my sacred simple pleasures. The world is afraid of joy and, if I’m out of tune with myself, I can become afraid of it too. It’s the divine feminine incarnate and, like all powerful energies, can be at once healing, joyful, and terrifying.
Homey domestic comforts are the ultimate sacred simple pleasures. Seriously. Coming home to cat-cuddles. The smell of beeswax candles perfuming my home with their honeyed scent. The whistle of the tea kettle. These things bring me so much comfort and joy. I even found myself rediscovering old pleasures, like sewing and knitting, during this time. All of these homey tasks helped me to unplug from a long work-week, ground my energies, and fill my life with beauty.
I began to more consciously craft the kind of life I wanted for myself. Full of luscious herbs in my garden and a pot full of stew in the kitchen. More books than I can ever read in my library and a bed piled high with knitted blankets large enough for two to cuddle under. I got rid of things that didn’t bring me joy in order to create space for my pleasure in my life and home. This simple domesticity brought me back to my core belief that true magic is in the everyday.
The thing about pleasure is that it’s pretty darn contagious. In fact, you could say that pleasure begets pleasure. It’s pretty wanton that way. If there’s one final takeaway I got from my year of cultivating sacred simple pleasures, it’s that the more you open yourself up to enjoying the little things in life, the more pleasure you start finding in the bigger things too. It is an act of everyday conjuring to invite this heady, hedonistic energy into all aspects of your life. My year of meditating on these simple pleasures might be over, but the cultivation of them is ongoing. After all, life is more delicious when you welcome in the divine feminine power of pleasure.
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