A Book of Simple Living: Brief Notes from the Hills

by Ruskin Bond

This much I can tell you: for all its hardships and complications, life is simple. And a nature that doesn’t sue for happiness often receives it in large measure.

A good monk would know that contentment is easier to attain than happiness, and that it is enough.

Happiness is a mysterious thing, to be found somewhere between too little and too much. But it is as elusive as a butterfly, and we must never pursue it. If we stay very still, it may come and settle on our hand. But only briefly. We must savour those moments, for they will not come our way very often.

As I walked home last night, I saw a lone fox dancing In the cold moonlight. I stood and watched; then Took the low road, knowing The night was his by right. Sometimes, when words ring true, I’m like a lone fox dancing In the morning dew.

Most of my life I have given of myself, and in return I have received love in abundance. Life hasn’t been a bed of roses. And yet, quite often, I’ve had roses out of season.

In an age when a scientific and rational explanation has been given for almost everything we see, it is good to have a mystery, a mystery sweet and satisfying and entirely my own.

Forget and forgive at sunset, and then the day’s deeds are truly done. Then sleep.

think I have learnt something of the value of stillness. I don’t fret so much; I laugh at myself more often; I don’t laugh at others. I live life at my own pace. Like a banyan tree.

The window is so positioned that I can lie on my bed and look at the sky, or sit at my desk and look at the hills, or stand at the window and look at the road below.

Live close to nature and your spirit will not be easily broken, for you learn something of patience and resilience. You will not grow restless, and you will never feel lonely.

Wars and upheavals destroy lives, but it is always worth remembering that life and humanity are bigger than them.

I suspect that meditation is something that you do deliberately (hence the need for practice), and contemplation is simply what comes naturally.

There are memories that we fear and run away from all our lives. But we also find solace in memory, often in unexpected ways, as unbidden images return from our past.

It isn’t by throwing things away—and, invariably, replacing them—that we avoid cluttering up our life. It is by holding on to things that have been good and faithful to us. A trusted familiar knows how to live with us, finding its own space, giving us ours, and saves us from the need to hoard and possess that comes from feeling incomplete.

‘Every day no Christmas, an’ every day no rainy day.’

After all, most of living has to happen in the mind. To quote one anonymous sage from my trivet: ‘The world is only the size of each man’s head.’

Love is as mysterious as happiness—no telling when it may visit us; when it will look in at the door and walk on, or come in and decide to stay.

Nothing really ends happily ever after, but if you come to terms with your own isolation, then, paradoxically, it becomes immediately possible to find a friend. And friendship is also love.

Wherever I went, the stars were there to keep me company. And I knew that as long as I responded, in both a physical and mystical way, to the natural world—sea, sun, earth, moon and stars—I would never feel lonely upon this planet.

And this shall be for music when no one else is near, The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear! That only I remember, that only you admire, Of the broad road that stretches, and the roadside fire.

I learned early—without quite realizing it—that the pleasure of travel is in the journey, and not so much in reaching one’s destination.

The first turning to the left, the next to the right… I am still on my zigzag way, pursuing the diagonal between reason and the heart.

Love your art, poor as it may be, which you have learned, and be content with it; and pass through the rest of life like one who has entrusted to the gods with his whole soul and all that he has, making yourself neither the tyrant nor the slave of any man. —Marcus Aurelius

To know one’s limitations and to do good work within them: more is achieved that way than by overreaching oneself.

Do what you know best, and do it well. Act impeccably. Everything will then fall into place.

If I am not for myself, Who will be for me? And if I am not for others, What am I? And if not now, when?

‘We make our own luck,’

It’s courage, not luck, that takes us through to the end of the road.’

By all means use sometimes to be alone! Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth wear! —George Herbert

Some people choose to sail around the world in small boats. Others remain in their own small patch, yet see the world in a grain of sand.

Homely sounds, though we don’t often think about them, are the ones we miss most when they are gone. A kettle on the boil. A door that creaks on its hinges. Old sofa springs. Familiar voices lighting up the dark. Ducks quacking in the rain. Sounds that make a house a home.

Man cannot help but live in conformity with his nature; his subconscious is more powerful than his conscious mind.

Each one of us is a mass of imperfections, and to be able to recognize and live with our imperfections—our basic natures, defects of genes and birth—makes, I think, for an easier transit on life’s journey.

The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper. —Eden Phillpotts

Declarations of passionate love or undying friendship are fine in their own way, and perhaps necessary; but the important thing is to feel comfortable with someone, and not have to keep proving yourself in one way or another.

And it’s wonderful how quickly a small tree or plant will recover if given a little encouragement. In return, there is gentle, generous friendship.

If a hundred per cent is not possible, let us attempt the ninety-five per cent that is. In other words, we can’t be perfect, but it is good to aim for perfection.

In the effort lies the achievement; but only if the effort is true and made with all your heart.

Fame is like the wind. It blows in all directions, then vanishes without warning. Not being a person of great eminence, I find myself encountering eminent people only when they are on the downslide to oblivion.

Time passes and brings us all down to the level of ordinary humans (which is where all of us belong).

In our imperfect world there is far too much talk and not enough thought.

Too many know-alls.

Finish every day and be done with it,’ wrote Emerson. ‘You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt, crept in. Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely, with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.’

I’m not sure we can ever forget unless we remember, and accept that we were wrong.

Be like water, taught Lao-Tzu, philosopher and founder of Taoism. Soft and limpid, it finds its way through, over or under any obstacle, sometimes travelling underground for great distances before emerging into the open. It does not quarrel; it simply moves on.

We have to accept people as they are if we want to live with them. We can’t really change people. Only a chameleon can change colour, and then only in order to deceive us.

We age without really knowing that it’s happening.

We shall not spoil what we have by desiring what we have not, but remember that what we have too was the gift of fortune. —Epicurus

may not have contributed anything towards the progress of civilization, but neither have I robbed the world of anything. Not one tree or bush or bird or flower. Even the spider on my wall is welcome to his space.

If you have the ability, or rather the gift, of being able to see beauty in small things, then old age should hold no terrors.