Giving in to a toddler-cold and baby-sleep deprivation, I give you Pico Iyer, who once wrote an essay on spring that I carried around in my wallet for years.
In this entry on a New York Times blog, he sums up pretty well, from the other side of life experience, why I am so happy to not be working in a big journalism job in the US, to be living in a small apartment in Sweden with no car, to be spending so much time with my wife and two small children.
If you’re the kind of person who prefers freedom to security, who feels more comfortable in a small room than a large one and who finds that happiness comes from matching your wants to your needs, then running to stand still isn’t where your joy lies. In New York, a part of me was always somewhere else, thinking of what a simple life in Japan might be like. Now I’m there, I find that I almost never think of Rockefeller Center or Park Avenue at all.
For the rest of the essay, go here.