Rediscovering Joy in Simple Moments

Sometimes, I think we’ve all gotten a little too serious. Not necessarily *bad*, mind you. But serious. It’s a quiet sort of sadness that settles in, isn’t it? A feeling that everything must be productive, measurable, *useful* in a certain, quantifiable way. We’ve forgotten, I think, the simple joy of just *being* – of doing something simply because it’s pleasant.

My retirement has given me a chance to notice this more. Thirty-four years of lesson plans and grading papers can do that to a person. You become so focused on the outcome, on the “what” and the “why,” that you forget the "how." And sometimes, the "how" is the whole point.

I recently saw a piece discussing how board games, of all things, are being recognized for their benefits – their ability to ease stress and even strengthen relationships. Now, I know what some of you are thinking: “Board games? Isn't that just for children?” And of course, children should play them! They should be allowed to be silly and to laugh and to lose without the weight of consequences.

Bernard and I had a Scrabble board, a rather handsome thing with inlaid wooden letters. We played it, not often enough, I suppose, when we first moved in together. It wasn’t a competitive thing, not really. Just a way to be together, to use our brains a little, to share some quiet time.

Phyllis, my dear friend, and I have started a little tradition. We meet in the backyard for the autumn equinox, just the two of us. We’ve got a small selection of games – a delightfully silly version of Uno, a slightly more challenging game of Backgammon. It's not about winning or losing. It’s about the quiet companionship, the gentle teasing, the shared pleasure of a simple, analog activity.

It’s interesting, isn’t it? How often we look for elaborate solutions to the anxieties of modern life. Expensive therapies, complicated exercise regimes... when sometimes the answer is right there, on a checkered board. It’s a reminder that wellbeing isn't something to be achieved, but something to be experienced, moment by moment.

I think it speaks to a deeper yearning, this return to simpler pleasures. A need to reconnect with something tangible, something real. To put down the screens and the devices and just… *be* with one another. It's not a replacement for serious work, for important conversations, but a supplement. A little bit of lightness in a world that often feels very heavy.

Perhaps it’s time we all dusted off those old game boxes, not to be “productive,” but simply to play. To laugh. To connect. To rediscover the quiet joy of something that has no other purpose than to be enjoyed. And that, I suspect, is a purpose quite worthy indeed.