Finding joy in the smallest of things

It seems many of us locked down in this pandemic oscillate between bubbling anxiety and unrealistic self-expectations. 

Will this ever end? When will I be able to hug my family and friends again? What about my job? 

I should be learning a new language/cleaning out the linen cupboard/teaching myself viola.

For those who still have employment and are adjusting to remote working lives, the idea of doing anything, aside from trying to get a decent internet connection, is a luxury.

Between these thoughts vying for our attention, and the inevitable adjustments our family of six has had to make, we have found a space to stop and to breathe. To listen. To be still.

We are making a conscious effort – and at times, it is an effort - to find joy again in the smallest of things. The days expand far ahead of us, stretched out like a cat waking from an afternoon snooze. 

Such simple delights like fairy lights (normally turned on only at Christmas) are now brightening our front entrance to buoy our spirits and those of the few who pass by. 

Our daily walks are slow. What’s the hurry? We observe houses with brightly painted letterboxes or beautifully tended gardens; places we’ve never noticed before. Forest walks, where not a single other person shares the path, unearth toadstools. These miniature fairy houses are like personal treasures reserved just for us.

My children who are too old for teddies happily prop old childhood toys on windowsills so other children of the area can spot them on their bear hunts. Rainbows of hope join stuffed animals gazing from glass panes.

Chalk drawings of encouragement graffiti footpaths and driveways. Kindness is contagious and We are in this together scrawl across the asphalt reminding us to be a better version of ourselves at a time when we can fall victim to the ugly side of stress.

An owl visits and takes residence on our balcony, no longer frightened by the frenetic movement of life pre-pandemic. Our view, which is usually clouded by fog (or is it smog?), is now clear all the way to the bay. 

The china dinner plates once reserved for special occasions are now used nightly as we sit around the table as a family. We have nowhere to rush to. There are no sports training or part-time job shifts. There are no meetings or work functions. Although this has been something to which we have had to bend and mould, there is certainly peace in an empty schedule. Blank diaries for the first time in forever, instead of making us sad have made us take pause. The racing around has finally stopped.

My husband and I share a glass of wine every night, a celebration of ‘why not?’ even though we are told this is not the right thing to do. But we are in a pandemic! There is no blueprint for what is right and what is wrong. We know to stay home and stay safe but we also need to stay sane, stay positive, and stay connected.

It’s hard to imagine a pandemic that stifles the respiratory system of the victims also allows those free of the virus to finally breathe. Once we calm the anxiety of the unknown, the unsettled nature of the outside world is somehow balanced by the settling of feelings on the inside of each of us.

We question our lives before coronavirus and wonder if it will change things for the better once the lockdown lifts. Will we learn to slow down? Will we distil out lives to the very essentials plus the few components we missed, the ones that coloured in outside the lines of lockdown? 

Kids cooped up in a house they’ve technically shared but not, because there is always one of them somewhere else - at school, at sports, at a friend’s or at work - are learning to get along again. 

Adapting to being at school from home has pushed them into a new realm of self-discovery. Their ability to be organised and independent in their work has seen growth we could not have expected in such a short time. Learning to be bored and finding a creative outlet without prodding from the adults has been an asset to our kids. 

As parents, we’ve changed our definition of what learning is, what learning actually matters to life. There is schoolwork, yes but there is lifework too. Cooking, cleaning, relaxing, relating, being. 

Of course, we can concentrate on finding joy in small things because we still have an income, a house, and food. We have our health and each other. I am not immune to the concept that it is much easier to find the light when you have financial stability, connected relationships and a safe place to stay. 

This looking on the bright side is not simply a Monty Python song, it is an opportunity to sit in the quiet, in the uncomfortable feelings of being out of control, of being told what to do, and finding a shred of happiness. For when there is joy, there is hope.

Have you discovered joy in small things?