Chapter Four: Pleasant Street

Somedays after work I hop on one of the Green Acre bikes and head out for a bike ride while the sun is lowering in the sky. The green bike I normally take doesn't have proper brakes, but I have figured out a route where I don't actually need to use the brakes, but if necessary, dragging my foot works! I calculated that it is worth the risk for the beauty I see when I coast along the road. I normally bike along a short road called Pleasant Street. It parallels the Piscataqua River for a bit, and I absolutely love riding along this part of the road. When I look out I can see the huge bridge for I-95 in the distance, and I see boats bobbing in the current, and more boats speeding by, and all the docks along this road have chairs set up facing the sunset. I always imagine the conversations that have occurred while sitting in those chairs. I think a dock, preferably at sunset, seems to be the most perfect place in the universe to have a good conversation with a friend, boyfriend, parent, or dog. Or God. Anyone you chose, I think a chair on a dock is a perfect place to talk openly and honestly.
So as I biked along Pleasant Street, I thought it was a suitable word to describe my time here at Green Acre. Pleasant. It is such a nice word. To me pleasant is not perfection. It's not pure happiness or joy. It's just calm and contentedness. Like a feeling you feel when you know you're not in a bad state, but you also know the best has not even come close to you yet. I'm okay here, I'm not necessarily happy, but I feel pleasant. And I can handle that now. The world is so overwhelming constantly, sometimes pleasant is just what you need in the moment.
My advice is, take a ride down Pleasant Street for an hour everyday. Whether your Pleasant Street is a bike ride near a river, yoga, meditation, or whatever you need in the moment, pleasant is necessary. Somedays we cannot be happy, but we can do something simple and pleasant. Always.