A perspective on perspective

The other night I invited my best Costa Rican friend over to my apartment in San José. I made dinner out of a single large skillet (because that's all I own) and I introduced him to hot buttered (Costa Rican) rum because I’m sick with a sore throat.

Cooking brought up memories of my old garden. In Tennessee, I had a big garden and I canned some of my own food. I would pick fresh herbs for dinner each evening. I was chatting with mi amigo about this and pulled up some photos of my garden to show him.

Then photos of my old house came up. To think… I was so happy and proud of that place. Two stories--every inch perfected carefully--big yard, manicured grounds, huge pool... I had it all.

Well, I thought I did. How very wrong I was.

And now? How do I feel in my tiny 60m² apartment with no A/C and no TV and no table and no microwave and no screens in the windows? The one with the electric-wired "suicide shower" that only sometimes has hot water? My humble abode that I’ve decorated with bay leaves to keep the ants out?

I feel filled up with joy and contentment. It’s not the stuff, friends. It’s everything else. It’s sipping a hot buttered rum on a rickety little couch and laughing over language mishaps and sharing profound observations about life, the universe, and everything.

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Perspective and priorities, folks. That’s where to find happiness.