It's Sunday, the sun is high up and the neighborhood is down quiet. Siesta. Gone is the cheerful chatter, the clattering and swooshing of daily chores. Gone are the construction sounds down the road. An unspoken agreement to rest is at work.
I'm reading in a reclining chair on our sunlit terrace. Nobody can see me falling asleep right here, melting into dreamland, under the spell of bone-deep warmth the sun spills.
That, I think, is luxury.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about what luxury is for me. Turns out, in my definition, it's not about having things but about having time. Offline time to be more specific. Time to be in the present moment, right where my feet are. Time to take a nap. To lay on the sofa and stare at the ceiling in the middle of the day. To play cards with my youngest sister.
I’ve always felt torn between the opportunities, interesting connections, and energy of a big city and a slow quiet life close to nature, with a warm, well-connected community and a secluded house. As I navigate a new life season and a freelance career, this inner conflict has morphed into me being torn between the online world with its endless stream of cool people, amazing projects, and options on the one hand, and simple but nourishing offline life on the other. I mean the offline life where I do things with my hands, interact with people in the physical world and have time to contemplate.
April has been about finding that balance between the two worlds I get to exist in: online and offline. But the word of the month for me was people. My desire to connect with others and the world drew me out of my usual ways. I have been actively seeking and nurturing new connections with people who seem to be on the same wavelength as me. Part of the latter includes online networking and I'm still learning to find a balance.
But, at the core of this desire is the notion that I don’t know how long I’m staying in Montenegro or what’s next for me, but I want this time right here to be as ~normal~, as I can get it. I want to make friends, go to events, hike, watch sunsets, dance, contemplate, and talk about deep and silly things with kind humans. I want to be living a full life, right where I am.
I recently met a woman who is a multi-disciplinary artist, working on a (nice) but less artistic remote job to support herself during forced immigration. As a hobby, she recently began making sourdough bread. As we stood in her kitchen, she held up one jar and said:
Each morning before I open my laptop, I feed my sourdough starter. It makes me feel like a creative human, not just a working human.
And that… that spoke volumes to me.
Reading
Continuing the story about insights bread-making can bring us, I want to highlight Amelia’s deeply relatable essay “Making Things is Inherently Human”:
For me, the simple act of making things, like food and clothing, with my own two hands reminds me I’m human. Not a robot. Not a capitalist cog. Not in a simulation. It brings me closer to the things I consume and slows me down enough to appreciate how they’re made. Because I’m the one making them.
—
Trying
Astrologically speaking, all my recent meditations on life’s luxury, being present and grounded, enjoying connection – it all makes sense as we are in Taurus season. That was a realisation I had after starting to use the Chani app. I love the weekly readings and personalised info it gives. I recommend it to anyone who is astrology-curious or loves to follow the “heavens-weather” and wants to make it easy and fun!
Working on
I started another newsletter… on LinkedIn.
It’s called Pragmatic Dreamer and explores how we can design our lives and businesses by interweaving linear and cyclical, system and flow, analytics and gut feelings. It’s connected to this sentiment I shared last month.
It’s part of my work as a strategic planning facilitator, who believes that to live a good life and build a good business we need both pragmatism and dreaming. We need to do the planning and allow for life’s ebb and flow.
Let’s connect on LI too? You can check out my Pragmatic Dreamer newsletter here:
Writing
We have just passed Beltane – a powerful celebration on the Wheel of the Year, present in many European traditions under different names. Even though I didn’t write about it here this time around, I’m still very proud of the work I’ve done exploring it last year:
Take good care,
Nika
This essay feels like a warm hug, Nika! This resonates especially: "I’ve always felt torn between the opportunities, interesting connections, and energy of a big city and a slow quiet life close to nature, with a warm, well-connected community and a secluded house."