Walking down a sunny street in the seaside town nearby, I smelled cinnamon rolls, hops brewing, passed flower baskets dripping with pansies, heard the buzz of the occasional car, click of the occasional cane, chatter of the occasional town occupant, and I, myself, felt so overjoyed.
Revelation at 51 – I don’t like walking in the woods. It makes me sad and lonely. No matter how much Thoreau enjoyed it and no matter how poetically he portrayed it, I, being me, don’t happen to feel uplifted by it. Revelation part 2 – That’s OK. In addition, it is OK to like small quaint streets with flowers and people and cars. This is what some people like. This is OK. I don’t have to keep forcing myself to walk in the woods thinking it’s supposed to be spiritual and peaceful.
How long does it take to get it? How you feel is how you feel. There is no supposed to, in the “what you enjoy” department. A long f-ing time, in my case. 51 years and counting.
Is there something you ever forced yourself to do because you thought you were supposed to like it?