I wrote this last night but fell asleep before I had a chance to post it…
I have a friend and fellow blogger who periodically makes delightful lists of things she feels thankful for. On days like today, when I have a pounding headache and an underlying edginess, I often try to distract myself with small snippets of happiness, and I thought this an excellent day to write a list of my own:
I am grateful for…
The way the sunshine on this mild winter’s day makes my skin glow happily.
Trusting my sense of direction enough to wander happily through unknown, beautiful London streets after I got off at a different station on a whim this morning, until I finally found a bus that could get me to work.
The colourful, hand-painted necklace from Bangladesh that bounces merrily on my chest today, reminding me with a smile of the friend who gave it to me, who is boldly adventuring in South America.
Hot chocolate with marshmallows.
Stopping to bury my face in the blossoms of a wattle tree and let the gentle scent whisk me back to childhood years living in the mountain kingdom of Lesotho, while the soft bristles kissed my cheek.
The way in which a meeting I expected to be long and tedious turned out to be interesting and useful, and finished early.
Slowing down enough to sit on a bench in a quiet park in the sunshine chatting to a friend instead of working through my lunch hour.
The wonderful, talented and supportive people I have met in this online community of sharing and creative energy.
Blowing bubbles, which make my children laugh with delight and dance to pop them.
My ability to notice and appreciate beauty in almost any environment.
Having a wonderful family I can’t wait to get home to in the evening.
Remembering that when I can’t have exactly what I want, I can find alternatives that are just as enjoyable.
The moments in which I can feel my increasing skill at not allowing myself to get frustrated with delays I have no control over.
Experiencing how impending loss can makes us appreciate what we currently have with joyful intensity.
The enveloping safety of my deliciously warm bed.