Choosing the Scenic Route

What positive emotion do you feel most often?

If you had asked me this question years ago, my answer would’ve been very different. Back then, worry and ambition were my closest companions. I was always eyeing the next job, the next title, the next opportunity to climb one more rung. I equated learning with classrooms, professors, and diplomas—believing that growth only “counted” if someone handed you a certificate at the end.

But over time, I’ve traded those restless companions for something quieter, steadier: contentment.

I think that now, I’ve grown more content, realizing that I have my own path in life. Not a path of giving up or standing still, but one of accepting the pace, direction, and beauty of where I am. Contentment doesn’t close the door on ambition or curiosity—it simply reframes them. I can still stretch, still learn, still grow, but without measuring my worth against a ladder I no longer want to climb.

Along this path, learning has bloomed in unexpected places:

On the tennis court in my late thirties, where the footwork from childhood soccer was second nature, but hand-eye coordination felt like learning a brand-new dance.

In the glow of YouTube tutorials, where I taught myself DIY projects one careful step at a time.

In the quiet courage of standing before a half-finished wall and deciding that “never having done it before” was no reason to stop.

And at the page, where I discovered that writing could be its own practice, not reserved for “real” authors, but for anyone willing to sit still long enough to listen to their own words.

And here’s the twist: contentment, for me, is always laced with gratitude. Gratitude is one of those words that feels overused, almost threadbare from how often it’s spoken—but I can’t think of another word that truly carries its meaning. Because for me, gratitude is both humility and joy: the awareness that life could be otherwise, and the lightness that comes from noticing what is. Gratitude for the hydrangeas that remind me seasons change, for the projects that stretch me, for the words that arrive when I least expect them. Gratitude for my job, which allows me to provide for my kids—not just the basics, but the privilege of something extra, like the chance to play tennis and discover their own passions on the court. Gratitude for the way life keeps opening doors, letting me find new passions of my own, whether in writing, in a DIY project, or in simply noticing the ordinary moments that make a day extraordinary. And gratitude for the simple truth that my path, winding and imperfect as it is, is mine.

It reminds me of a quote I recently shared: “The flower doesn’t dream of the bee. It blossoms and the bee comes.” — Mark Nepo. That, to me, is what contentment with gratitude feels like. It’s not striving or forcing. It’s blooming where you are—trusting that the right things, the right people, the right lessons will find you in their time.

So yes, I still carry a trace of ambition (and yes, worry taps me on the shoulder now and then), but the emotion that sits with me most often these days is contentment—with a twist of gratitude. And it feels like finally exhaling after years of holding my breath—like stepping onto my own garden path, not perfectly paved, but winding, alive, and blooming in its own time.

— The Wallflower