It is easy in times such as this to dwell on those things that feed our misery. The seemingly never-ending snow dome that has clamped itself over London (and, of course, Britain). The fact that the cost of living seems to have suddenly become incredibly high. The unlikelihood of me being in a position where I own or am least paying off some sort of property within the next few years. The increase in reports and/or incidents of violence towards women around the world. The violence and misery that our fellow humans continue to inflict on each other in the name of various institutions, values and beliefs. Arsenal's profound ability to inflict despair on its supporters. A growing number of homeless people living in a different world at the foot of the modern office I work in. My ability to sandwich Arsenal between two development issues.
But, whilst attempting to create a duveted cocoon at an ungodly hour, shivering and snivelling and feeling sorry for myself and for the world but mainly for myself, I was reminded of my post from roughly this time last year, which remains the most viewed and commented-on post from this blog. It's the post entitled A pause to reflect and wax lyrical, in which I ruminated on how a part of l'art de vivre is surely recognising and reveling in the smaller things that bring us little bursts of joy and make us pause in appreciation of them.
So, for this post, written during a bout of (wo)man flu-ridden insomnia, I share nothing more than an updated version of my list of things that bring uncomplicated joy, a talisman against the cold, in the hope that it'll help me remind myself that this too shall pass and hopefully inspire you, dear reader, if you find yourself in a place where you are in need of some inspiration.
Wearing my nose-ring. The way that the use of triplets in a piece of music manages to satisfyingly squeeze three notes in the space of two. Playing the piano with no audience but myself. Turning your face skyward and closing your eyes to feel the sunshine whilst walking. The way that sunbeams find their way through clouds and reach downwards, seeing clouds hanging so low in the sky it feels as though you could reach out and touch them, the sound of the wind finding its way through gaps so small you didn't know they existed. Always, mini daffodils. Being in awe of the creative talents of my closest friends and family. Finding out that someone has read something of mine and been moved or inspired. Watching my 88-year-old grandfather and 3-and-a-half-year-old second cousin dance to Run DMC's Tricky (yes, the same second cousin that featured in this blog's first ever post). Watching my 3-and-a-half-year-old second cousin playing with her 88-year-old great grandfather in a way I must have when I was her age, seeing my brothers play irreverently with our two second cousins, watching the younger of the two discover the world around her with a twinkle in her eye. The feeling of having an idea spark in your mind after reading something new. The feeling that the idea was there all along, waiting to be uncovered. Cracking the spine of a new book, writing perfectly on the second page of a notebook, book cover art. Sitting in a coffee house with nought more than a book, your music, and the feeling of space and time within you as the surrounding world speeds up. Spending a Sunday tucked in your room with nought more than a book, your music, and the feeling that the outside world and the cold are far away. Using words such as "nought" or "betwixt". Strolling as those around you rush. The sudden lifting of self-consciousness to be left with who you truly are at your core. Finding out that insane things like chess boxing and the live reenactment of films exist. Seeing a city you thought you knew through different eyes. Discovering things and places with someone you care about for company. Remembering and playing video games from your younger years. All those small, insignificant yet significant things that make you breathe a little deeper and smile a little smile to yourself.
But, whilst attempting to create a duveted cocoon at an ungodly hour, shivering and snivelling and feeling sorry for myself and for the world but mainly for myself, I was reminded of my post from roughly this time last year, which remains the most viewed and commented-on post from this blog. It's the post entitled A pause to reflect and wax lyrical, in which I ruminated on how a part of l'art de vivre is surely recognising and reveling in the smaller things that bring us little bursts of joy and make us pause in appreciation of them.
So, for this post, written during a bout of (wo)man flu-ridden insomnia, I share nothing more than an updated version of my list of things that bring uncomplicated joy, a talisman against the cold, in the hope that it'll help me remind myself that this too shall pass and hopefully inspire you, dear reader, if you find yourself in a place where you are in need of some inspiration.
******************
Wearing my nose-ring. The way that the use of triplets in a piece of music manages to satisfyingly squeeze three notes in the space of two. Playing the piano with no audience but myself. Turning your face skyward and closing your eyes to feel the sunshine whilst walking. The way that sunbeams find their way through clouds and reach downwards, seeing clouds hanging so low in the sky it feels as though you could reach out and touch them, the sound of the wind finding its way through gaps so small you didn't know they existed. Always, mini daffodils. Being in awe of the creative talents of my closest friends and family. Finding out that someone has read something of mine and been moved or inspired. Watching my 88-year-old grandfather and 3-and-a-half-year-old second cousin dance to Run DMC's Tricky (yes, the same second cousin that featured in this blog's first ever post). Watching my 3-and-a-half-year-old second cousin playing with her 88-year-old great grandfather in a way I must have when I was her age, seeing my brothers play irreverently with our two second cousins, watching the younger of the two discover the world around her with a twinkle in her eye. The feeling of having an idea spark in your mind after reading something new. The feeling that the idea was there all along, waiting to be uncovered. Cracking the spine of a new book, writing perfectly on the second page of a notebook, book cover art. Sitting in a coffee house with nought more than a book, your music, and the feeling of space and time within you as the surrounding world speeds up. Spending a Sunday tucked in your room with nought more than a book, your music, and the feeling that the outside world and the cold are far away. Using words such as "nought" or "betwixt". Strolling as those around you rush. The sudden lifting of self-consciousness to be left with who you truly are at your core. Finding out that insane things like chess boxing and the live reenactment of films exist. Seeing a city you thought you knew through different eyes. Discovering things and places with someone you care about for company. Remembering and playing video games from your younger years. All those small, insignificant yet significant things that make you breathe a little deeper and smile a little smile to yourself.
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