I am a woman who stops and smells the roses. Literally.
There’s a few things I need to explain in regards to that statement. First off, many roses have no fragrance. It’s a little known fact, but those oh-so-common, florist-bought red roses will be absent of scent. However, some garden roses are much more varied in color and scent. And whenever possible, I do stop and smell them. The ideal rose scent is a delicious blend of sweet and subtle.
Recently, as I was walking to the Barnes and Noble Cafe at the Grove I passed by some roses growing outside a nearby restaurant. I leaned over and smelled a few. (Very faint fragrance). Next thing I know, I heard a woman’s voice saying, “Excuse me.” I turned back expecting someone to ask me where the Apple store was. Instead, she said, “I just love that you’re smelling the roses. Literally.” I thanked her and wished her a nice day.
I didn’t smell the roses to impress anyone or garner a compliment. I didn’t smell the roses because I thought someone was watching. I smelled them for me, because pausing for a few seconds to smell the roses would make me happy.
Large portions of my days are spent doing things for other people and/or feeling badly (physically and/or emotionally). But I’m learning that I can do certain things to make myself happier. When I was reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love there was a passage about happiness that I tagged with a Post-It.
“...people universally tend to think that happiness is a stroke of luck, something that will maybe descend upon you like fine weather if you’re fortunate enough. But that’s not how happiness works. Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it.”
So, just a little reminder, in the midst of chaos and pain and sadness, whenever you can, stop and smell the roses.