Without a Thought, Effortless Living
Can you take pleasure in something, real pleasure, without pulling it apart in your head first? For some mothers, nursing a baby is exactly that kind of moment. Ask yourself whether there's any task so familiar, so automatic, that you actually look forward to doing it precisely because your mind gets to stay quiet.
For me, it's coffee table books, the big ones packed with photographs. I can look as long as I please and nobody stands over my shoulder telling me to hurry along. On the rare afternoon when I head out alone and find myself with a little extra time, I'll wander into a shop I've never set foot in and just browse. My eyes lead the way. Seeing is how I take the world in.
Other people have their own version. A long soak in a hot tub. A shower where you let the water run as long as you like, nobody counting. Afterward, maybe sliding into a bed that's just been made up with clean sheets. These so-called mindless pleasures all run through the senses, and that's the whole point: you don't have to think about them to enjoy them.
You can often guess which sense somebody leans on by listening to how they talk. One person says, "I can see that." Another says, "Hear me out." And then there's the person who asks, "How does that make you feel?"