Very well, I was thinking, but what if we put a little more personal touch into it? Instead of feeding instant gratification by just severing the right size piece off the rope coil with the scissors, calling it jump rope, I had the idea to use elder tree branches as handles. All it took was a few cuts with the pruners, quick removal of the pith with a steel rod of the right size (a longer nail would have been the same good), beveling the rims with the pruners, whipping the two ends of the hemp rope with untreated flax sewing thread, pulling the handles over, tying a single knot on the outside of each handle (this is enough to prevent the rope slide out of its handles due to the centrifugal force, while in use) and there it was: a simple, all-natural jump rope for the simple pleasure of a natural girl.
I put my loving attention in the jump rope which earned its greatest reward in form of shouts of joy. In practical terms I had made a durable object of genuine materials, in part right from our yard and with a relatively small extra effort – a very pleasant one at that -, I managed to complement functionality with a humble charm, a unique, unrepeatable quality that is engrained into the bark of the hollowed elder handles, an immediate connection to the place we live. A previously visual texture now gifted to the exploring palms.
Or look, for instance, glide your vision across the incredible silky sheen of these birthday candles:
They are what they seem: pure, solid beeswax, notably sourced from organic beekeeping… hand-dipped by the passionate fingertips of my caring wife, who likes to prepare early for anything – especially events like the 36th-37th birthdays over a month ahead, to be celebrated in the intimacy of the three of us, the family. Flax hand-spun wick, tapered bottom ends for easier insertion into the lavish sponge of our future birthday cake I can foresee.
A benign, gentle beauty, one day soon nurturing all senses of all of us around the festive table, where dancing lights will infuse our nostrils with the sweet smells of honeycomb, the scent of nature smoldering, the nourishment of tongue and soul… integrity through and through.
Why would anyone not care about nurturing our innate affinity for the beautiful?
Simple shouldn’t equal simplemindedness and definitely not obliviousness. Simple should never be harmful. Ignorance is a violation of the sense of beauty. Watching the unattractive, the hideous, the appalling grow around oneself, equals actively taking down one’s aethos, one dis-figure at a time.
Eco-simplicity and eco-minimalism take refined taste to a whole new level, along with its enjoyment: the experience of oneness with the Earth, having to feel not the faintest of remorse that otherwise can justly accompany exploitative behavior. The eco-minimalist reveres the beauty of living on this planet and only knows selfishness as an archaic term in the dictionary of old language.