Unnecessary

Most of the things that are worth doing in life can be tagged 'unnecessary'. Cuisine is one of them. A sudden craving for creativity urged me to bake spelt buns yesterday. It was a whole lot of unnecessary fuss. We even had to light up the fireplace, to heat the dough so it would rise (thanks to U.). A walk in the woods is also quite unnecessary. Instead, one can do so many more important activities, like laundry. Travel is also unnecessary. It can be quite tiresome, expensive and lengthy. Sitting in the train, for hours, for a whole day, to have a brief moment of bliss, is admittedly unnecessary. Reading is also unnecessary, since one's stupidity and ignorance are incurable. To love is unnecessary: it a mere distraction at best, a constant sufferance at worst.

Indeed, the best things in life are not 'necessary': they are voluntary, and that is their great charm. It is a great satisfaction to be able to create, out of nothing, some delight, albeit superficial and temporary: the homely, lovely smell of fresh warm bread is worth the fatigue of baking. The sight of a tilled green field that elucidates a busy mind is worth the long walk. A glimpse of love, a moment of joy, justify a long boring voyage.

Like prince Mishkin of Dostoevsky's Idiot, I am astonished time and again by the obviousness of the better choice, and our difficulty to make it. Rational calculations lead us astray, practical considerations dilute our dreams. It is better sometimes to be an 'idiot', to do the unnecessary and the ridiculous, and maybe, if one is really lucky, to make a change for the better.