I think nature and presence are to poets what love and heartbreak are to lyricists! I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of reading these little reminders that life is happening right in front of us, if we just slow down enough to notice.

Anna Akhmatova  

I Taught Myself To Live Simply

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life's decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.

The title of this poem stood out to me, in particular the word 'taught'. It suggests that simplicity did not come naturally to Akhmatova, but rather it was something she had to learn, hinting that there may once have been a pull toward the noise of life: possessions, status, or the constant desire for more. Instead of chasing these things, she consciously chooses stillness, nature, solitude and the comfort of ordinary moments.

There is a whimsical feel throughout the poem that could be mistaken for innocence, but the reference to life’s decay tells the reader that the poet has seen and accepted the reality of suffering, loss and impermanence. Rather than turning away from life’s hardships, she responds to them by stripping life back to what is meaningful and enduring.

In many ways, the poem reflects the yogic principle of santosha, or contentment, where peace is found not through accumulation but through acceptance and attention. The simplicity Akhmatova describes feels active rather than passive; it is a conscious daily choice to live with clarity.