Living simply and quietly is not a flex for me. I practice the art of momentology which means maximizing the joy and appreciation for each and every moment of my life, and mostly that is simple and quiet.
I’m not going to kid you: some days, I am better at this than other days. It is a daily task to remember to take life moment by moment, and to just be still.
But I do believe that there is a quiet movement happening.
Not on TikTok.
Not on television.
Not in the endless stream of people showing us bigger kitchens, larger homes, newer cars, and more expensive lives.
It happens in the small moments.
I call it momentology but you could conceivably call it something else.
The practice of paying attention.
The art of noticing.
The decision to stop postponing happiness until some imaginary future arrives. The best part is, it does not take a lot of money, or a big house or fancy car to be “happy” in this life.
My home would probably seem remarkably modest by modern standards. There is no giant flat-screen television dominating the room. No home cinema. No smart refrigerator ordering groceries on its own.
Instead, there are books and little baskets and all sorts of small, whimsical things.
But definitely, there are lots of books. Stacks of books.
Cookbooks. Travel books. Art books. Coffee table books collected over many years.
Some people collect watches.
Some collect handbags.
I collect beautiful coffee table books. I also collect ideas.
Every morning begins the same way.
I wake up and look outside.
If the sun is shining, that alone feels like a gift.
The birds arrive first.
Then the bees.
I often watch them through the window as they move from flower to flower, entirely absorbed in their work. They are not worried about what someone else owns. They are not comparing themselves to another bee on social media.
They are simply present.
That feels like a lesson.
Coffee follows.
Not rushed.
Not consumed while scrolling.
Just coffee.
A favorite mug.
A favorite chair.
A few quiet moments before the world starts making demands.
I love my little studio in Paris where I enjoy all these quiet moments. Around my apartment are small objects that bring me genuine pleasure.
A blue cast-iron teapot.
A polished moka pot waiting for morning coffee.
A terracotta vessel discovered years ago.
A yellow Dutch oven that somehow makes cooking feel more cheerful.
A basket of folded linens.
A wooden dish rack.
A vintage cup stand with floral teacups.
None of these objects are particularly important.
Yet all of them matter.
They create atmosphere.
They remind me that beauty does not have to be expensive.
It simply has to be noticed.
I have always loved what many people now call the cottage aesthetic.
French country living.
Woven baskets.
Natural wood.
Ceramics.
Cookbooks stacked beside vases.
Warm lighting throughout the day.
A room that changes character depending on the hour.
Morning light is different from afternoon light.
Evening light is different again.
Learning to appreciate those shifts has become one of life’s unexpected pleasures.
Perhaps that is what simplicity really is.
Not deprivation.
Not pretending you don’t want anything.
Not rejecting beautiful things.
Simplicity is knowing when enough is enough.
It is understanding that joy often arrives disguised as ordinary life.
A cup of coffee.
A favorite book.
A bee outside the window.
A beautiful plate.
A sunny afternoon.
The older I get, the more I realize that success is not always about adding more.
Sometimes it is about noticing what is already here.
That may not be keeping up with the Joneses.
But it feels like a very good life to me.
About me: I am a contributor to Avenue Sixty Magazine. I write on Substack (mostly about brand deals at the moment), I have a tiktok (@marionchronicles) and a few other social media accounts.
