Don't Overthink It - Anne Bogel Page 0,55

scarcity mentality for an attitude of abundance.

There was nothing magical about my Trader Joe’s bouquet; the point isn’t the flowers but what they represent. Sure, we could get by without life’s small pleasures, and if we’re operating under a scarcity mentality, we do exactly that. But with a posture of abundance, we feel empowered to say yes to this small kindness.

These little decisions seem small, and in a way, they are. But the implications are large: one, we wouldn’t mind bringing a little more simple joy into our lives; and two, if we can’t trust ourselves to make the right decision about a four-dollar bouquet, it’s no wonder we’re slow to trust ourselves with the big stuff.

With that in mind, what small things bring you joy? How can you enjoy them on a more regular basis?

Identify Your Small Treats

Iris Murdoch writes, “One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats, and if some of these can be inexpensive and quickly procured so much the better.” Murdoch wrote this as a bit of a joke, a line for one of her characters, yet don’t we all love small treats?

We can define a “treat” as something extra, something inessential, something that goes beyond the absolute minimum we require. Treats don’t have to be expensive, but they should be highly individual and bring us joy, regardless of others’ tastes and preferences.

When I asked friends what small treats they enjoyed, the responses were varied: a lavender bath on a Tuesday night while somebody else put the kids to bed, a square of good dark chocolate after dinner, a regular Saturday morning hike during the time they used to devote to chores, the anticipation of intriguing new books arriving in the mail on release day.

As for me, after years of using cheap ones, I now indulge in good pens—ones that cost a dollar more than the just-getting-by models. For the longest time, I debated whether spending the extra buck was “worth it.” I don’t do that anymore, because I’m no longer interested in the bare minimum—at least not when it comes to pens, which matter to me. Sure, I could do my writing with a twenty-cent pen—or worse, a free one from the bank—but if I’ll enjoy the experience more by paying extra for a good one, I’ll opt for the good one every time. Writing with a quality pen is a delight, and paying a little more for a tool that will write for hours and hours is one of the cheapest delights I know.

I have a friend who loves guacamole, and she told me how she used to habitually turn down the guacamole at her favorite taco spot because she didn’t need it. But on her last visit, she was in an abundant frame of mind and paid the extra dollar for guacamole. She said it was so good it made her wonder why she’d never ordered it before. We both knew the answer: it wasn’t essential, so she’d defaulted to no. But she’s not going to do that anymore, because she’s learning to make the good stuff a habit.

Make the Good Stuff a Habit

One of the most effective ways to bring good things into our lives is to make a habit of it.

Earlier in this book, we discussed how we can put recurring decisions on autopilot, deciding once and enjoying the benefits indefinitely. We can act, like clockwork, for our own benefit without having to endlessly debate whether it’s the “right” thing to do. This frees us to enjoy the thing, whatever it is, instead of torturing ourselves about whether we should or shouldn’t, or waiting for a special occasion that may never arrive.

When we don’t have these decisions settled in our minds in advance, we rely on winging it, making decisions based on how we feel in the moment. We may ask ourselves, How big of a deal can it be to decide about flowers once we’re at the store? It may not sound hard, but then in the moment, there in the store, we freeze. Without a clear philosophy or system to guide us, we have to continually make decisions and justify them to ourselves.

I put this strategy into action and made a personal rule for myself, specifically about flowers: I will buy flowers every time I’m at Trader Joe’s, unless the selection is truly tragic or my own peonies are blooming. Because of that inner maximizer I told you about, plus my innate frugal nature, this