Small Joys
Chanting life forth, joy by joy by joy
Journal: 22 July, 2024, morning.
Quite often I recite out loud to myself things that bring me delight, those small joys, as though the recitation was an incantation of magic, a cleansing of all the things that weigh the spirit down. Chanting light forth, joy by joy by joy by joy.
Ripe figs. Soft pretzels with those crunchy bits of salt. Shell pink nail polish. Furniture polish with the fragrance of oranges. That feeling when you open a new book for the first time. Family photographs from your childhood - smiling faces from times past. That "hot summer day right before the rain begins" feeling in the air. A fragment of verse* that has stuck in your mind for years and delights you every time you remember it.
*”Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.”
I swear by delighting in these small joys as an antidote for so much that grieves us. The act of thinking of these, writing them down, naming them out loud… it’s a way of being grateful, really, that we are so rich in small joys, and we let that slip away from us, out of our thoughts, and I don’t know why we do that. Let’s not do that.
Every day I go through this exercise and sometimes I share it here and sometimes not, but I do it, without fail. It’s a wonderful framing practice.
A few more: a full moon, hummingbirds, my favorite moss green color, Ashley’s glorious music during Mass, sweet memories of love, our Jura, small dog snuggles, eucalyptus and herbal body wash, incense scented candles, rereading a favorite book.
May peace be with you, may delight be with you, may small joys be with you.
May graces small and large find you today.
#journalingalife
