pleasure.

At a park overlooking Billings and the Yellowstone River I read the signs about the people, our ancestors, that once walked that very same ground. It reads, “Montana has been inhabited by Native Americans for at least 11,000 years. People at that time were nomadic, which means they moved a lot following their food source.”

That word, nomadic, hangs in the air.

We are all still nomadic in a sense, except we no longer move just to chase a food source. We move to chase material needs and power and love and that next high that we believe will fill the hole of that hunger. I know parts of that life all too well.

But these days it’s my soul that is starving and I’m choosing to chase pleasure.

There’s a shift in the day because of it, an ease that I haven’t felt yet on this journey.

I picked out a latte, Mountain Morning, because I liked the name. I picked this park, Four Dances Recreation, because I liked the name. I picked an AirBnb on Sunflower Rd. because I liked the name. I found a used bookstore and picked out books, like Playing Big, because I liked the names. 

I was greeted with an unexpected blessing after each choice. Free coffee. Unexpected views. Wisdom and treasures. A gift for a friend. Space to slow down. And so it goes. 

This small practice alone has helped me ease into the idea that what brings me pleasure is safe, valid and worthy of chasing. And for no other reason than wanting to follow it because of its name. Each visceral choice small but necessary to unlock the next small moment. Combined, they would make up the bigger joy of the day as a whole.

One moment, one choice, chasing into the next.

Imagine the collection of these small, pleasurable, choices on a weekly, monthly or even yearly scale. 

We would never grow hungry and maybe we could make a place so special we might never want to leave.