grapes with the words The Pace of Pleasure

The Pace of Pleasure

Have you ever eaten a grape slowly?

I mean, slllooooowwwwwly.

Start by touching it.

Looking at it.

Smelling it.

Feel its temperature on your skin. 

Feel its texture on your lips.

Let your tongue explore it.

Then gently pierce its skin, and let the explosion of juice and flavor move you.

Nibble it.

Peel the skin off with your fingernail. 

Let a bite warm up in your mouth.

Squish it with your tongue.

Dance with it.

Breathe with it.

Enjoy.

Really, really enjoy.

I’ve done this before as an exercise.

I do it occasionally in my life.

But lately I’m wondering more and more: What would it look like to move every day at the pace of pleasure?

The pace of pleasure is not the pace of life in this culture.

The pace of pleasure isn’t always slow—speed can be totally exhilarating too.

But it’s usually slower than we’re usually going. 

Even things that are “supposed” to be about pleasure rarely happen at the pace of pleasure, I’ve noticed.

(Eating, sex, games, etc.)

I’m not saying it’s practical to always move this way.

But most of us have plenty of room to notice it more.

To stand for it more. 

To choose it more.

What’s the pace of pleasure in your work?

(If there isn’t one, that’s a good sign that maybe this work isn’t the work you want to stick with.)

What’s the pace of pleasure in your walk?

What’s the pace of pleasure in the exact next thing you’re going to do?

Pleasurably yours,

Rachel

PS – I’m on vacation this week. And even there the pace of pleasure can be elusive. Let’s practice mixing it in. 

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