As I get older, I think perhaps the greatest wisdom I have gained, is being (sometimes) able to appreciate the little things that we are all blessed with, if we only look.
On Monday this week, I walked out of my door with a t-shirt and shorts on and enjoyed the warming of a summer’s morning as I went to catch a train into town for a Feldenkrais session (see this post from two days ago). I felt the light breeze blow over me and thought about how much I do love the short walk down a tree-lined path from my home to the railway station.
Of late my mood has been a little low (not a “Black Dog” of depression, but perhaps a light grey one?), so one of the things I do for myself is to seek to focus on the small moments, being present to the tiny things like sitting on a quiet train carriage with the sun beaming in. On that particular journey, a fun exchange around “Mr Jones Watches” on the new Threads app had me take this picture of me wearing my favourite “Memento Mori” watch from Mr Jones Watches.
The evening before, I had sat peacefully outside in the early evening reading a book sent to me by a friend whilst sipping on a craft beer. That friend and I have got into a routine of reading a book, and, where we think it would be something the other would like, mailing it to them. This was one such book, called “Riding Out“, a memoir of a writer who decided to ride from the northern tip of Shetland to the southern tip of England during the first summer of the pandemic, 2020. He did it as he knew that was what he needed for his own mental well-being. It is beautifully written and a salve for the soul, particularly when accompanied by thoughtful and tiny sips of that craft porter ale. I also acknowledge the author, Simon Parker, for being open and sharing where he was on his own journey as well as before and during that journey. I do look to share some of myself within my own writing too, as “we are human beings, not human doings”, more than our intellectual thoughts or lists of accomplishments.
That evening I sent a photo of the book and can of beer resting on my lap to my friend, who later replied with a few thoughts, closing with:
As I get older, I think perhaps the greatest wisdom I have gained, is being (sometimes) able to appreciate the little things that we are all blessed with, if we only look.
Appreciate the little things.