On the pursuit of small joys
It is a random night spent in the corner room of a big, huge house. I have clean sheets and fresh flowers from Trader Joe's purchased with the last ten dollars in my account. My record player is playing a few records that I either took from my grandfather's collection or bought at that record store on my trip to New York last year.
There is a distant noise of laughter or music, as the girls I live with gather to get ready for a night out. I can hear it over the record and past my closed door. The slight sound of joy.
Maybe I am seated in front of my makeup vanity reapplying blush and drinking what little alcohol I have left to go out. Maybe I am about to crawl into bed to catch up on an episode of the Bachelor.
My friends are all traveling around Europe.
There are people somewhere celebrating birthdays, graduations, and weddings.
People are having their first kiss, seeing the face of their first child, and getting accepted into their dream school.
And yes, on the one hand, I am jealous. I could say that I have been recently lacking in the department of big accomplishments and core memories. But on the other hand, I am tapping into small joys.
In Laura Stevens book, Every Exquisite Thing, she writes, “Big joy and small joy are the same, right? Something so ordinary can be something so beautiful if you look at it the right way.”
So recently I have been in the pursuit of small joys. A perspective shift. That I don’t need anything fancy or exciting to be joyful. I don’t need turbulence or suspense or thrill. I just need to bask in the content I have for the little things.
And those are so much easier to find. As they are everywhere.
I started to decide to have a good day when the sunset was pretty or my coffee tasted just right in the morning. I feel joy when I get a text from a friend I have not talked to in a while. I find thrill when I hear a song I used to love that I forgot about. I enjoy car rides, paydays, and when my professor cancels class. I enjoy my alone time and how much writing I have been doing. I celebrate finding a cute shirt at the thrift store or when a friend asks me for advice.
I enjoy the sounds of my friends laughing or when I can hear the music playing in the different rooms of the house before a night out. And the way the sun peeks through my shades in the morning. The small joys.
I try to no longer dream of elaborate events or exciting new beginnings. I dream of there being sunshine and how the music feels coming out of the radio when all my windows are down. I find excitement at the possibility of a new friend even if we stop talking after that one semester of an intro class together.
I dream of new places, but they don’t need to be far. It could be a new favorite place to eat or a new spot to sit in on campus.
And when all those small joys fail, I still feel jealous or sad or hopeless. I think about the fact that there was a small Olivia who dreamed of all of this. That this exact moment, being this age and at this place, would have been a big joy for her.
Let’s not get so used to life that we miss it.