I find myself more and more utilitarian in my life. It started with food. I eat the protein and the carbs so I can keep functioning at work. Then it seeped into my home. I don’t cook for the joy of it any more. I cook to feed my body.

I’ve become more minimalist in my home life. Half of my apartment has been donated or sold in the last 6 months. My excuse for this is blame on my ex. When Jake and I lived together, he was anything but a minimalist. Quality, the best of the best, the latest thing, had to fill up our apartment. So we did. We filled this two bedroom to the brim with junk we didn’t need. I don’t know about him, but I didn’t want it either. It was just another red flag, trying to fill the void of a lousy, empty relationship. I use this excuse, and the idea that as a single woman with a cat, I have no need for a two bedroom apartment. I am donating or selling the majority of my books. My books! This girl who used to live by the motto: “A room without books is like a body without a soul.” I sold my record collection when my record player broke beyond repair. Saying to myself, “You can save money if you move into a studio apartment.” Some call it “downgrading,” but I’m starting to see it seep into my joy, or allow my joy to seep out. I’m not sure which.

My Instagram is almost nonexistent and I made that choice deliberately. The anxiety of posting regularly enough, of gaining followers, of constantly showing the great part of life, of seeming happy all the time, the fakeness of it all, was exhausting and painful. But one thing I’ve noticed since then is that my view of beauty has become altered. It too has become utilitarian. I don’t see the point in it anymore. I don’t see the point in having a pretty dress and doing my hair and makeup. I don’t see the point of going to the art museum. I don’t see the point in finding the beauty in this world and documenting it in my photography.

As I sit in my bedroom, the wall opposite to me is covered in my hiking photographs as well as a map of the entire Pacific Crest Trail with planning notes on it, as well as marker covering the portion of the trail I’ve hiked to date. The pictures are beautiful. Close ups of my favorite plant, the Saguaro cactus. Orange rock arches from Utah. Muddy boots from the Rio Grande. Rushing waterfalls. Mountain ranges stretching past comprehension. I used to seek out this beauty. I used to ache for it.

My utilitarianistic ways are causing problems: I’ve lost my appreciation for the world around me. Lost the joy. I realized this last night when I found myself reacting to others’ reactions on Notre Dame burning. Notre Dame—burning. 800 years of history and beauty and worship. And I didn’t care. My first thought was, “but did anyone die?” Which is important. But I couldn’t understand the world’s feelings of loss. I couldn’t see the beauty that was lost. I couldn’t understand the beauty, so I ignored it. I’ve ignored beauty for the sake of beauty for so long, beauty didn’t register with me. The loss of beauty didn’t affect me.   

As I write this, I know I need to jolt myself out of this rut. Of all the stories throughout time, when did you meet a good guy who didn’t appreciate beauty? It’s always the bad guy. There’s a reason for that. Beauty should be appreciated for its own sake. Food should be good, not only good for you. Art should exist for art’s sake. Joy should exist, be cultivated, expressed, and experienced.  I want to blame this on living in the city. I don’t have my mountains, my waterfalls, my saguaros, but that’s not the point of life. It’s to find joy in all of God’s creation. It’s to appreciate all of this world, cultivate it, and hand it back to God in appreciation.

Today, I will find joy. I will appreciate it, respect it, love it, and I will hand it back to God with thanks.