Dear Today,
The morning sun is bright, making life feel clear and distinct, and the air is cool enough in the shade to sit outside and write. The birdsong in New Zealand is always an extraordinary symphony, and today is no exception. I’m going to make a cup of coffee, stretch, and remind myself to sit up straight as I write!
I woke today to B, a voraciously loving golden retriever, splayed across the sheets with her paws outstretched to my face. It is a privilege to wake up so happy to be in the presence of another, and to smile at the mere fact of living in companionship (especially when the companion is so cute.)
This moment reminded me of how I have been considering lately the impact of smallness on how we experience our worlds. The ritual of a cup of tea or coffee in the morning, the hairs of a dog on your laptop screen reminding you of her love to be close to you, the feel of an old, worn book in your hands after it has passed through so many others. There is so much possibility for joy in the moments passed by as the everyday, that I am conscious of my need to resist this complacency within myself.
How easy it would be to forget to live in the moments of life that we did not plan, did not painstakingly curate with an ideal feeling in mind.
These small moments of joy are so disproportionally substantial that it feels almost comical, or even somewhat tragic, that we spend so much time and energy searching for, purchasing, planning, the things that we believe will bring us happiness or purpose. Is it the consumerist fantasy that we’ve been fed that makes us want and want, then want some more? Is it some innate desire for improvement or fulfilment? Perhaps we just live in a time that is a perfect storm for making us believe we are not enough at our core; we are not the most beautiful, not the smartest, not the best writer, not the best reader, not the fittest, etc, and these are ‘facts’ that are reinforced constantly by discourse online. But if we are content with moments in the day that bring us a sense of self, and more importantly a sense of delight within that self, then we can look at these supposed inadequacies as what they are: meaningless to our day to day lives, and certainly unproductive in terms of making us happier.
Here is my list of small things that I love:
- The sound of heavy rainfall
- Warm fresh bread
- Finishing a book and sitting with its final words
- Using a library
- YouTube Ambience videos
- Dogs running, happy
- Clear sinuses!
- Sending a letter
- Creating semi-acceptable latte art
- Cats bumping their head against a leg
- The multifarious colours of leaves when the sun shines through
- Finishing knitting a row without a mistake
- The possibilities of a new notebook
- Writing poetry that captures a moment
- Going to a charity shop/thrift shop/op shop
- Browsing antiques
- Finishing a painting, however small
- The coolness in the shade of a tree
- An iced beverage on a hot day
- Walking through a city with an umbrella in the rain
- Exploring a new museum/gallery
- Golden hour light on grass
To live each day with the awareness of the small things you love is to live each day with the potential for radical joy. This concept is, of course, not new, but reminding oneself of it is always helpful to put life in perspective. Consider your list, and find joy in something small today.
Love,
Alice
ALICE HEALY 