Living a Rich Life

This statement seems to be thrown around a bit these days. You can hear me audibly scoff at the term as I read books and articles about living one. The word “rich” weighs heavy in my mouth as I actively reason with the discomfort in my body fueled by guilt and jealousy.

When I take the word away from wealth, it actually feels very liberating and free. Like a flourless chocolate cake. Simple, decadent and filling. That’s moreso what I feel when I think about what it means to live rich.

It has nothing to do with money, but how much it fills the senses and makes one feel deeply. Like gathering a few friends to attend a mending fair on a Sunday afternoon. Bringing our tattered clothes to learn how to mend them into something artful and sweet. Mended feels more rich than new ever will, because there is love now sewn into the hems where friction once ways. And that’s freaking beautiful.

I’ll now wear my old clothes proudly, knowing my friend’s hands added some love to them. Or I took the time to patch the hole that was born there a while ago, in a time I remember well.

Rich is in the simple, decadent and full. And money isn’t even part of the discussion.