Tuesday, February 18, 2014

True Luxury

There's a chocolate factory in the middle of Oloron-Sainte-Marie, a sort of barometer for the people who live here. If the weather's about to change and the clouds are hanging low, the whole village smells like melting hot chocolate. I wasn't planning on visiting the Lindt facility yesterday, but when I came out of the building at the top of the hill above the town after my massage, the rich scent pulled me down the stone staircase, across the river, and into the store. There were a dozen others in there, wandering around between tall stacks of discounted boxes of Valentine's Day treats.

If I were rich, I wouldn't buy cars or jewelry or fancy clothes or any things, really. The longer I live without things the stranger it seems to live with them. I have fond memories of things that I used to own, but no real desire to have them back, or acquire new ones. No, I wouldn't buy chocolate every day, but if I had the funds I would have a massage every day, or every other day at the least. This morning my shoulders don't hurt, I'm full of energy again because all the places where my chi gets dark and stagnant have been cleared out, and my soul is soothed because I have been touched in loving-kindness by someone. With all the cheek-kissing that goes on in France, people here (in my experience) aren't really into physical touching, and I have missed that. A massage a day, or a hug - that's true luxury.

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