I recently started following Ingrid Fetell Lee (the author of Joyful and founder of the Aesthetics of Joy website) on Instagram, and one of her posts this week talked about savouring (UK spelling!) as a way to extract as much joy as possible from an experience.
Savouring the lack of responsibilities
If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you’ll know that I am still “on sabbatical” i.e. I am not working or earning an income. For the last 160 days, I have been trying not to take on responsibilities like cars and rentals, so that I can savour the feeling and joy of being free, with no responsibilities.
And there is no doubt I have done that and enjoyed every second. I’m lucky enough to have family members who have let me drive and borrow their cars, and I’ve been making the most of public transport as much as I can.
But, I cannot live with family forever. At some point in the near future, I have to find a place to settle and take on an apartment. For now, I’ve set this date as 1st October as something to aim for. Also, I have decided I will take my son on a road trip around Scotland before he starts uni in Edinburgh. For that, I need a car of my own.
So this week, I enlisted the help of my nephew in finding a suitable second hand car and surprisingly, I found one quickly that suited my budget and my needs. It is cheap to run, fuel efficient and small.
This is my “new” Toyota Yaris, whom I have christened Kiki Clara. She will be perfect for my needs until I get more settled and start earning an income. So in the 160 days since I left South Africa, I have transitioned to not having a car and the related expenses, back to owning a car outright. A single key has been added to my key ring (you can read more about my “key-shedding” experiences earlier this year). I’m sure it won’t be too long before I have a whole bunch of keys again!
Savouring the freedom of my own car
I can tell you, the feeling of driving my own car again is unexpectedly joyful, even though she doesn’t have a powerful engine or loads of gadgets.
She is mine.
As we drive down the roads dappled with shadows from the overarching trees, with the sun roof open and the radio on, set to my own choice of station, I am savouring this feeling and attempting to bottle it for when I need it in the winter months.
The whole thing is a paradox.
She is a responsibility but she also represents freedom and a commitment to being back here in England permanently.
This post is part of my Transitions series.
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