Excitement is costly..!

From my flat on the second floor I saw the postman. He was walking laden with his usual quota of letters and parcels, walking to my building. I looked eagerly at him, at his hands and wished I had super-vision to see whether some of those letters were for me or for my two neighbours below.

I knew he would carefully insert what belonged to me into the postbox below. I knew my driver or wife coming up later would bring the contents of the postbox up for me. I also knew they would not be much different than usual newspapers and magazines that regularly sent their copies to me, after publishing my column.
But I also knew I craved excitement.
I could not wait for my driver or wife, to bring what the postman had left for me. I felt a stirring of curiosity, the thrills of anticipation, and I ran down the steps to my letterbox. The postman who had gone a few paces from the box looked back and grinned at me, “You were not here for Christmas sir?” he asked rubbing his hands together. “No!” I said stiffly as I fished in my pocket for the evasive two big notes he happily accepted. “Happy Christmas!” he said, shook my unwilling hand and walked away, pocketing a cool two hundred unexpected bucks, three weeks after Christmas. Why had I run down? Couldn’t I have waited a few more hours?
I needed the excitement that would break the boringness of the mundane.
But supposing the mundane was not boring? I asked myself. Supposing I had a peace that passed all understanding that made every moment exciting? Possible, I realised. It was the joy of living each moment, a joy that came from deep within and not from letter or postman. A joy that came, not through new excitement. Not from a new toy or a new romance.  A joy that didn’t need a stirring. 
I climbed up the stairs with my normal quota of letters and newspapers and magazines; there wasn’t even a cheque from any one of them. Yet I had run down and even lost a few hundreds in the bargain.
I walked back to my window and looked out, then stopped looking out and looked deep within myself. I saw upheavals and unrest. I need to settle, that instability thought to myself, fill myself with an inner peace that would be so joyful, I would not need to look out for excitement.
And excitement is costly, I thought as I saw the postman leaving the gate..!
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Excitement is costly..!

From my flat on the second floor I saw the postman. He was walking laden with his usual quota of letters and parcels, walking to my building. I looked eagerly at him, at his hands and wished I had super-vision to see whether some of those letters were for me or for my two neighbours below. I knew he would carefully insert what belonged to me into the postbox below. I knew my driver or wife coming up later would bring the contents of the postbox up for me. I also knew they would not be much different than usual newspapers and magazines that regularly sent their copies to me, after publishing my column. But I also knew I craved excitement. I could not wait for my driver or wife, to bring what the postman had left for me. I felt a stirring of curiosity, the thrills of anticipation, and I ran down the steps to my letterbox. The postman who had gone a few paces from the box looked back and grinned at me, You were not here for Christmas sir? he asked rubbing his hands together. No! I said stiffly as I fished in my pocket for the evasive two big notes he happily accepted. Happy Christmas! he said, shook my unwilling hand and walked away, pocketing a cool two hundred unexpected bucks, three weeks after Christmas. Why had I run down? Couldnt I have waited a few more hours? I needed the excitement that would break the boringness of the mundane. But supposing the mundane was not boring? I asked myself. Supposing I had a peace that passed all understanding that made every moment exciting? Possible, I realised. It was the joy of living each moment, a joy that came from deep within and not from letter or postman. A joy that came, not through new excitement. Not from a new toy or a new romance. A joy that didnt need a stirring. I climbed up the stairs with my normal quota of letters and newspapers and magazines; there wasnt even a cheque from any one of them. Yet I had run down and even lost a few hundreds in the bargain. I walked back to my window and looked out, then stopped looking out and looked deep within myself. I saw upheavals and unrest. I need to settle, that instability thought to myself, fill myself with an inner peace that would be so joyful, I would not need to look out for excitement. And excitement is costly, I thought as I saw the postman leaving the gate..! [email protected]