Speaking about the small but joyful things that bring delight to my life makes me mindful of many bountiful blessings.
For instance: I gathered up the laundry that had dried in the sunshine, and plopped it onto my bed. Later on, when I walked into my bedroom, I was met with the glorious smell of wind and sun, all brought about by that stack of laundry, fresh off the line. I get my rocks off by saving electricity via my clothesline, but my BIG JOLLIES are from deeply inhaling the scent.
My morning starts with a lovely routine of making tea. Assemble tea pot, cup, pitcher of almond milk, sugar, and a silver spoon. Boil the water, steep the tea—whose pot is swathed in brightly coloured cloths—and wait ten minutes for the perfect cup. During the consumption of the first cup, make a list of pursuits for the day and check for email messages.
My list of stuff to do can go on and on, as I’ve got lofty goals and loads of energy at first light.
If I can connect with my family or friends during the day, then my day is complete. (not worrying about the list of things to do, as ‘perhaps tomorrow’ is my slogan.)
But lists of goals are limited, since they’d not include: an incredible sunset, weird cloud formations, the laughter of children at one of my feeble jokes, three feral cats showing up at a for dinner for two, the sudden gushing of rain complete with rainbows, and finally—unexpectedly—a song blasting through my speakers, causing me to crank up the volume and dance: cuz of the beat and this line: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.” Instantly I get fiercely good memories of road trips and singing/shouting/dancing in the car seats with my daughter to that very same song.
In retrospect: I can do as much as possible to plan my day to include small joys. After that I’ve got to be ready to grab at starbursts that might just happen during days that are overcast with badnewsbombsrandomactsofviolencethreatsofmayhemgreedyslimeypoliticsasusualbigotryracism All overcome with