Savoring simople daily pleasures

In a world that moves at lightning speed, we often chase the next milestone, the next task, or the next achievement—rarely pausing to savor what we already have. But what if the key to greater happiness wasn’t about doing more, but noticing more?

In The Ritual Effect, Michael Norton offers a powerful insight into how rituals—those small, intentional acts we repeat—can unlock deeper meaning and joy in our daily lives. He writes:

“Savoring—Consumption rituals can prompt us to savor even our smallest ordinary pleasures. The word savoring has a broader definition—Heightened attention and appreciation in respect to all aspects of our everyday lives. One we can sustain and augment; Strategies include—Try to be present for our positive moments and appreciate them. Communicate and celebrate savoring with others. Express our savoring through nonverbal behaviours such as smiling. Ritually remember details about past positive experiences while also anticipating the details of those still to come.”

This idea—of savoring—is deceptively simple, yet incredibly profound. It’s about consciously choosing to slow down and notice the texture of your morning coffee, the warmth of sunlight through the window, or the laugh of a loved one across the table.

Why Savoring Matters

Savoring is not just about pleasure; it’s about presence. When we savor, we’re tuning in to what’s good in the here and now, rather than letting it slip past us unnoticed. It’s an antidote to numbness, distraction, and burnout. And rituals can help us get there.

Think about it: lighting a candle before dinner, taking a deep breath before your first sip of tea, or sharing a daily highlight with a partner at the end of the day. These simple acts are more than habits—they're rituals. They signal to our minds: pay attention, this matters.

How to Create Rituals That Help You Savor

Norton offers practical strategies to make savoring more sustainable and meaningful:

• Be present for positive moments. Don’t just let a good moment pass by—stop and name it. Feel it fully.

• Share the joy. Talk to others about what you’re enjoying. Joy multiplies when shared.

• Smile, pause, breathe. Nonverbal behaviors reinforce internal states. Smiling, for instance, not only expresses joy—it amplifies it.

• Remember the good. Create rituals around reminiscing. Look at old photos, revisit favorite places, or simply tell a friend about a great moment from your week.

• Anticipate future joy. Plan something to look forward to, and allow yourself to savor the anticipation as much as the experience itself.

Small Rituals, Big Impact

You don’t need to overhaul your life to benefit from this. You just need to notice what you already love—and ritualize the noticing. Whether it’s a quiet walk in the morning, a moment of gratitude before sleep, or a Saturday pancake breakfast with your kids, these rituals become anchors that tether us to the richness of life.

In a culture that glorifies hustle, savoring can feel almost rebellious. But it’s in those moments of stillness and celebration that we remember: life isn’t just something to get through—it’s something to savor.

 Savouring simple daily pleasures

Spend What’s Left After Saving: The Path to Financial Freedom and Inner Peace

In a world that constantly tells us to buy more, show more, and live bigger, it’s easy to fall into the trap of spending recklessly in pursuit of a fleeting sense of happiness or validation. But as Jay Shetty wisely advises:
“Do not save what is left after spending. Spend what is left after saving.”

It’s a powerful shift in mindset—one that prioritizes long-term peace over short-term pleasure. Because ultimately, financial freedom isn't about looking rich. It’s about staying free.

The Illusion of Wealth

Many of us grew up believing that success looks like luxury cars, designer clothes, and exotic vacations. But often, these are just expensive props in a performance of success—not its reality. People overspend to “feel” successful, not realizing that every impulse buy is often a trade: your future peace for present dopamine.

Impulse buying triggers a chemical reaction in the brain—dopamine. It’s the same chemical that’s released when we achieve something meaningful. The problem is, retail therapy offers a fake version of that fulfillment. The hit is short-lived. The debt, however, isn’t.

Every time you buy something just to feel better, you’re not just spending money—you’re selling off your future peace.

Is Your Lifestyle Competing with Your Income?

One of the most important questions you can ask yourself is:
“Is my lifestyle competing with my income?”

If your answer is yes, it's time to reassess. Living beyond your means isn’t a sustainable strategy. It creates stress, debt, and dependency. And no matter how much money you make, if your lifestyle constantly outpaces your income, you’ll never feel secure—because you aren’t.

That’s why Shetty’s advice hits so hard. Saving first means you’re taking care of your future self before your current self starts spending.

It’s a principle of delayed gratification, but it doesn’t mean depriving yourself. It means spending with intention, not impulse.

The Freedom of Living Within (or Below) Your Means

Living modestly doesn’t mean living miserably. It means living freely.

When you save intentionally and spend mindfully, you reclaim ownership over your time, energy, and future. You're not stuck in cycles of financial stress or chasing the next big paycheck just to keep up appearances. You gain the flexibility to say "yes" to opportunities that align with your values—and "no" to those that don’t.

If I Have More, I Have More to Give

Another beautiful truth: wealth with purpose becomes generosity.

When you manage your finances with discipline and clarity, you're not just building a more secure life for yourself—you’re creating overflow. You can support causes you care about, help loved ones in need, invest in community, and be a source of hope for others.

You don’t need to live greedily to live richly.
You don’t need to prove your success. You just need to live in alignment with what truly matters.

Final Thoughts

• Spend what’s left after saving.

• Don't buy just to feel better—heal instead.

• Live a lifestyle that serves your purpose, not your ego.

• Let your financial decisions reflect your values, not your impulses.

• Remember: if you have more, you have more to give.

Financial freedom isn’t a number. It’s a mindset—and it starts with making peace with enough. I have much to learn from this, and it's a journey and an education I am continually reminding myself to stay present in and objective. 

 Savoring simple daily pleasures

"To want is to lack."

At first glance, this phrase might sound harsh—almost nihilistic. But look again, and you'll find a quiet wisdom embedded within it, pointing us toward a deeper peace that modern life rarely encourages us to seek.

We live in a culture that worships desire. We're told to dream bigger, want more, strive harder. And while there's beauty in aspiration, unchecked desire often leads to a kind of chronic restlessness—a gnawing sense that we are always missing something. That we are perpetually incomplete. That we must constantly achieve, acquire, and assert in order to be fulfilled.

But what if fulfillment doesn’t lie in more?
What if it lies in the simple act of enough?

There’s a quote worth holding close:

“The graceful acceptance of your minuscule position in the great cosmos is the gateway to calm and harmony.”

This isn’t about diminishing yourself. It’s about locating yourself properly in the grand web of existence. It's about releasing the illusion that you are the central character in a universe designed for your personal success story.

Spend a quiet afternoon with a dog. Or sit beside a cat as it naps in a sunbeam. Watch a bird hop along a branch, utterly indifferent to your accomplishments or anxieties. That animal doesn't care if you're rich or broke, admired or unknown. To them, your resume and your reputation mean precisely nothing.

And yet, in that animal’s presence, you can find something you rarely find in boardrooms or newsfeeds: peace.

Why? Because animals, in their quiet, nonverbal way, teach us to just be. They don’t obsess about tomorrow. They don’t scroll through worries. They don’t measure worth in trophies or titles. They accept the moment. And in their company, we can too.

This is not escapism. It’s recalibration.

The truth is, wanting can often be a mask for emptiness. When we say, “I want this,” we’re also admitting, “I do not have it.” Desire, in this way, is the language of lack. And while there’s nothing wrong with wanting—a natural part of life—it’s worth questioning the volume of that wanting, and whether it's leading us toward contentment, or pulling us further from it.

In contrast, grace comes when we loosen our grip on the self, when we acknowledge that our individual lives are just specks in a vast, mysterious cosmos. And that’s okay. More than okay—it’s liberating.

You don’t have to be significant to be serene. You just have to be present.

So the next time your mind races with desire—more success, more validation, more something—try this instead: Sit down beside an animal who loves you without conditions. Let their stillness become your own. Let go of the climb, just for a moment. And remember:

To want is to lack.
But to accept? That’s the beginning of peace.

Tonight, turn off your screens, silence the noise, and spend 10 uninterrupted minutes with your pet—no agenda, no phone, no words. Let them teach you what presence feels like. You might just remember what it means to simply be enough.

We Are All Flawed — And That’s Where Connection Begins

Everybody is flawed.
It’s not just a comforting thought — it’s a liberating truth.

Whether you come from a religious tradition, follow a spiritual path, or identify as secular, there's a common thread woven through all frameworks of self-understanding: we are imperfect beings. Faith traditions remind us we are fallen, broken, limited. Psychology tells us we carry wounds, traumas, biases. Even modern science acknowledges the deeply human nature of error, emotion, and irrationality.

This shared brokenness — far from being a weakness — can actually be our starting point for growth, compassion, and connection.

In a world that constantly pushes us toward performance and perfection, admitting our flaws feels counterintuitive. But in truth, it’s only when we accept our imperfection that we can begin to understand ourselves and genuinely connect with others. Vulnerability is not the soft underbelly of weakness — it’s the fertile soil from which empathy, authenticity, and real intimacy grow.

A Shift in Identity

Over the centuries, how we define ourselves — and each other — has changed dramatically. If you met someone 500 years ago, your first question would likely be:
“Where are you from?”
That question spoke to belonging. It referenced family, tribe, community, land — a kind of shared identity that was inherited, rooted, and relational.

Today, more often than not, we ask:
“What do you do?”
The answer is no longer about where we belong, but what we produce. We’ve shifted from a communal sense of self to a performative one. Worth is now tied to output, status, and perceived success — rather than character, context, or connection.

This is not just a linguistic change. It reveals a deeper cultural shift:
We’ve come to measure ourselves and others by value metrics — job title, income, social capital — as though a person’s true worth can be distilled to a LinkedIn headline or a 10-second elevator pitch.

The Problem with Perceived Worth

When identity is tied too tightly to performance, two things happen:

1. We hide our flaws — terrified they’ll disqualify us from love, opportunity, or respect.

2. We judge others by narrow standards — reducing rich, complex human beings to roles, reputations, or resumes.

This is why the idea that “everyone is broken” is so deeply helpful. It levels the playing field. It reminds us that no one has it all together, even if they look like they do. It invites grace — for ourselves, and for others.

Vulnerability as a Gateway

Healing doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens in relationships — and relationships thrive on vulnerability, not perfection.

When we let others see the cracks in our armor — our doubts, mistakes, regrets, and fears — something sacred happens. Not pity, not shame, but recognition. “Ah,” they might say, “you too?” And in that moment, a bond forms. A bridge is built. Not over-polished resumes or curated Instagram lives, but over the shared reality of what it means to be human.

So, instead of striving to appear flawless, perhaps the better goal is to become more real. To embrace the messy, to show up imperfectly, and to seek others not for their status, but for their story.

You may find that, when you move beyond surface-level identity, you unlock a deeper connection — one that begins, as all true connections do, with a shared sense of being human, flawed, and still worthy of love and friendship.

Savouring Simple Daily Pleasures

 We all have ideologies. They’re like regional accents—something we carry with us, shaping how we speak, think, and move through the world, often without ever noticing. You might not realize your voice has a certain lilt until someone from somewhere else points it out. In the same way, your beliefs—about politics, success, nature, people—feel like common sense, until you meet someone whose “common sense” looks completely different.

Ideologies are inherited, absorbed, shaped by our families, our cultures, our environments. And just like accents, they can shift over time, soften, strengthen, even disappear under the right pressures. But they’re always there, influencing how we see the world.

Take, for example, the way we think about nature. Most of us were taught to pull weeds out of the garden. Weeds are bad. Weeds are unwanted. But what is a weed, really?

A weed is just a plant that happens to be growing in the wrong place.

That’s it. That’s the whole definition. A dandelion isn’t a villain in its own story. It’s just thriving where we didn’t expect—or want—it to. It’s a matter of perspective. In a lawn, it's a nuisance. In herbal medicine, it's a treasure trove of benefits. Same plant, different ideology.

What if we applied that thinking to people? To ideas? To ourselves?

Maybe some of the “weeds” in our lives—those stray thoughts, different opinions, or unexpected changes—aren’t wrong, just… unplanned. Maybe they’re just things we haven’t learned to see the value in yet. Maybe they’re even trying to teach us something, about adaptability, resilience, or rethinking our assumptions.

The world is full of things we’ve labeled—right, wrong, natural, unnatural, successful, failed. But those labels often say more about our ideologies than the things themselves. And like accents, we don’t always hear our own until someone else points them out.

So next time you’re quick to judge something—a person, a belief, a plant—ask yourself: is this really “wrong,” or is it just out of place in the mental garden I’ve inherited?

We don’t have to pull every weed. Sometimes, letting something grow where it wasn’t “meant” to be is exactly what the ecosystem—of a garden, or a mind—needs.

 Savoring simple daily pleasures

Lately, I’ve found myself paring things back. Not just in my wardrobe, but across the board—my beauty routine, the products I clean with, even the shoes I lace up every morning. There’s been a slow but steady pull toward less noise, fewer chemicals, and more integrity. It’s not about minimalism in a stark or trendy sense—it’s about embracing simplicity that feels considered, timeless, and genuinely nourishing.

It’s quiet luxury.
Not flashy logos, not trend-chasing, not fast anything. Just texture. Fit. Comfort. Quality. Sustainability. And above all, a sense of calm.

Clothing: Rediscovering the Essentials

In my wardrobe, that means rediscovering well-made basics—pieces that breathe, move, and last. Soft cottons, natural wools, relaxed tailoring. Linen that wrinkles in the right way. Silhouettes that feel elegant without trying too hard. I’ve been leaning into brands that focus on craftsmanship over marketing, whose pieces speak in soft neutrals and impeccable details rather than shouting for attention.

Whether it’s casual summer layers, elevated athleticwear, or just the perfect plain tee, I’m asking more from the things I buy. Does it feel good on the skin? Does it fit in a way that supports movement, not restricts it? Can I see myself wearing it five years from now?

That’s where my attention is going now. Longevity is the new luxury.

Footwear: From Aesthetic to Ergonomic

I recently listened to a podcast on foot health and it really clicked—our feet, the foundation of everything we do, are so often neglected. I walk everywhere: commuting to work, running errands, weekend hikes, long golf days. I’ve always appreciated a well-constructed shoe, but now I’m seeking out designs that are ergonomic, not just stylish.

Brands like Vivobarefoot are on my radar now—stripping back unnecessary cushioning and offering footwear that lets your feet move the way they were designed to. It’s about function with form—support, mobility, materials that breathe. Athletic gear that doesn’t scream for attention but supports your life, quietly and effectively.

Beauty: Tallow and the Wisdom of Grandmothers

In my beauty cabinet, the shift is similar. I just ordered locally made tallow skincare—something I never thought I’d try (who wants to smell like a roast dinner?). But honestly, there’s wisdom in the old ways. Our grandmothers knew how to care for skin with what was available, natural, and effective.

Tallow is rich in nutrients, deeply moisturizing, and incredibly healing—especially for those of us trying to simplify our routines and avoid the chemical-laden potions that promise miracles but rarely deliver. It’s back to basics. Skin care that feels wholesome.

The same goes for cleaning products—vinegar, castile soap, essential oils. No harsh smells, no unpronounceable ingredients. Just clean, in every sense of the word.

A More Grounded Kind of Luxury

This isn’t about going off-grid or swearing off modernity. It’s about choosing differently, tuning into what actually feels good, lasting, and real. It’s about a lifestyle that supports the body, calms the mind, and respects the earth.

It’s about elegant restraint.

Where less isn’t just more—it’s better.

If you’re feeling the same pull—to simplify, to refine, to come back to what really matters—this quiet luxury movement may be for you too. It’s not loud, but it’s powerful. And it starts with the smallest shifts: in your shoes, your skincare, your everyday staples.

A Few Brands & Finds on My Radar:

• Vivobarefoot – ergonomic, minimal footwear with a cult following for a reason

• Christy Dawn, ASKET, Pangaia – brands with a commitment to sustainability and understated beauty

• Local Tallow Skincare – wholesome, ancestral, surprisingly chic

• Everlane (for elevated basics)

• WE-AR, Ethical yoga inspired clothing

• Blueland or Skipper– low-waste, clean cleaning products

• Marlow- Premium athleisurewear; simple, sleek and effortless

• ALEXANDRA- A Melbourne-based brand embracing unstructured silhouettes and soft lines

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Quiet luxury isn't about having less—it's about having less, better. And that feels like a luxury worth investing in.

“It’s not about the dress you wear, but about the life you live in that dress.”

This quote lingers like a quiet truth. It reminds us that what we choose to wear isn't just fabric—it’s a reflection of how we move through the world, how we feel, and how we want to live. A dress can empower, ground, uplift, or stifle us, not because of its cut or cost, but because of the energy we bring to it—and the energy it gives back.

The same can be said of how we eat, move, rest, think, and live.

We’re slowly waking up to the reality that less can be more—not in a minimalist, cold way, but in a deeply nourishing one. Just as you might step into a simple linen dress and feel immediately more yourself—freer, softer, clearer—you can apply that same principle to every part of your lifestyle.

Food: From Packets to Plants

Our diets, like our wardrobes, can become cluttered. Over-processed, over-complicated, and disconnected from what our bodies really need. When we pare back—fewer packets, more produce—we begin to feel more like ourselves again. We notice how food makes us feel, not just how it tastes. Wholefoods nourish more than just our bodies—they nourish our presence, energy, and emotional stability.

Eating this way isn’t a trend. It’s a return. A quiet rebellion against diet culture, fast food, and the idea that food must be convenient above all else. It’s about cooking with care, eating with awareness, and fueling a life that feels intentional.

Beauty: Less Masking, More Radiance

Just as with food, beauty routines can become performative. But when we approach beauty as an extension of wellness rather than a mask, everything changes. We’re not chasing youth or perfection—we're honoring the skin we’re in. We’re choosing products that nourish us, not just chemically but energetically. Fewer steps, cleaner ingredients, deeper results.

Movement: Inhabiting Your Body Fully

You don’t need the fanciest gear or the trendiest workouts. Movement is about being in your body—walking with purpose, stretching with gratitude, dancing for no reason at all. The goal isn’t to shrink or sculpt, but to move energy, to feel alive, to embody presence.

Home: A Sacred Reflection

Your home should feel like a deep exhale. Furnishing it thoughtfully, filling it with natural textures, soft light, and meaningful objects isn't about design perfection—it’s about resonance. A beautiful home holds you. It reminds you of who you are. It supports the life you’re building.

Sleep: The Silent Healer

We glorify hustle, but the true magic happens when we rest. A good night’s sleep isn’t a luxury—it’s foundational. When we prioritize quality rest—turning off devices, cooling the room, slowing the mind—we set ourselves up for better decisions, clearer thoughts, and calmer days.

Mental Diet: What You Consume Matters

What you read, watch, and listen to becomes part of your inner world. Are your books nourishing your curiosity? Do your favorite shows leave you feeling depleted or inspired? Are the podcasts you queue up building you or draining you?

Mindful consumption isn’t just about what’s on your plate. It’s also about what you feed your mind and soul.

Clothing: Second Skin, First Statement

Coming full circle, the clothes you wear are often the first expression of your inner world. Do they support your lifestyle? Do they let you breathe, move, feel like you? When we simplify our wardrobes to reflect who we are rather than who we think we should be, getting dressed becomes a ritual, not a routine.

Living a Whole Life

When we step back, it becomes clear: it’s not about the one choice—it’s about how that choice supports the life we want to live.

The dress is just a dress, yes.
But how do you feel in it?
What kind of life do you lead in it?

The same goes for your meals, your skincare, your home, your habits. It’s all connected. Each piece is a thread in the larger tapestry of your wellbeing.

So start small. Simplify one area. Choose presence over perfection. And remember—this isn’t about restriction or aesthetic. It’s about returning to yourself.

One nourishing choice at a time.

 Savoring simple daily pleasures

There’s a special kind of thrill that hits just before the sun rises — when the world is still stretching, and the day hasn’t quite begun its usual noise. It’s quiet. But not empty. It’s charged. There’s energy in the air, the kind that turns your stomach in the best way — like you’re about to do something bold and beautiful, even if all you're doing is making coffee and watching the sky change color.

I never used to notice that.

Back then, mornings were something I endured. Waking up wasn’t a beginning — it was a recovery. I’d squint at the light, try to remember how the night ended, and wade through a fog thick with regret, shame, and dehydration. The simplest pleasures — crisp sheets, a good cup of coffee, even a sunrise — were lost in that haze. Blurred out. Drowned beneath the hum of a hangover and the weight of yesterday’s decisions.

But everything changed when I decided to look at life from a different angle — without alcohol. Not just quitting drinking, but choosing to live awake.

And in this version of life, the joy is subtle but steady. It’s in the things I once overlooked.

It’s the silhouette of trees before dawn, like delicate ink sketches against a softening sky. It’s the electric flutter in my belly as the day tiptoes in — not anxiety, not dread — but anticipation. It’s the way my cats rumbles like  engines when I climb into bed at 9 p.m. with a book and clean sheets. It's knowing I’ll wake up clear. And ready.

There’s a kind of magic in reclaiming your mornings. In discovering that peace doesn't come from numbing the world, but from noticing it.

Sobriety hasn’t dulled my life — it’s sharpened it. Colors are more vivid, flavors deeper, connections more real. And that first sip of good coffee in the quiet of an early morning? That’s a high I’ll never trade again.

Because this isn’t about missing out. It’s about waking up — for real this time.

And I’m so grateful I did.

I used to be aware of these pleasures — the morning light, the scent of fresh sheets, the quiet joy of a deep purring cat — but they were dulled. Blurred behind a veil. Clouded by a hangover of some degree — sometimes faint, sometimes crushing — but always there, shadowing the edges of joy, numbing both the highs and the lows.

Since stepping into sobriety, I’ve become so much less pessimistic and reactive. Calmer. Kinder, even — to others and to myself.

This past weekend, my husband came off his bike. I didn’t see the fall, but I knew something was wrong the moment he returned — limping slightly, torn kit, and that tight, pained expression that says “I’m fine” but means anything but.

We’ve been together for over twenty years, and — being the kind of chap who rides bikes daily — there have been a few crashes over the years. But this time, I noticed how differently I responded. No anger. No panic. No spiraling into frustration or emotional volatility. Just presence. Compassion. Steadiness.

Our daughters noticed that shift in me early on. Not long into my sobriety, one of them casually mentioned that I wasn’t a “shouty mummy” anymore. That one landed deep. Kids don’t filter or flatter — they tell the truth. And mine were seeing a new version of me emerge before I could fully recognize her myself.

Now, I don’t just get through the day — I live it. Fully. I’m no longer clawing my way through hours, waiting for the first socially acceptable sip of wine at 5 p.m. — or earlier, if I could justify it. I’m thriving. I’m productive, focused, and free from the mental gymnastics of negotiating with myself about drinking.

And with that clarity has come a shift in how I view society, too. I see more clearly now how many of us are sold the idea that money equals power equals success — and that happiness is the natural outcome of that equation. But it’s not. True contentment isn’t something you buy. It’s not a handbag, a promotion, or the perfect dinner party. And it certainly isn’t found at the bottom of a bottle.

Happiness, for me, now lives in small, honest moments. In being present. In feeling the weight of my daughter's hand in mine. In meeting a crisis with calm. In the sunrise. The stillness. The silence. The space.

No, there are no happy endings in alcohol. But there are countless new beginnings without it.

And I’m living one of them now.