- more sunrise – less sleep in
- more listen – less talk
- more focus – less multi-task
- more self-acceptance – less self-criticism
- more books – less phone
- more proactive – less reactive
- more water – less coffee
- more outside – less inside
- more open windows – less air conditioning
- more walk – less sit
- more appreciate – less complain
- more do – less someday when
- more hope – less anxiety
- more prayer – less worry
It’s a great day.
A day for coulds. Maybe I cans. And why nots.
A day to experiment or go for the sure thing. Maybe try a first-time recipe or mix up something tried and true. Measure or estimate. Who cares? Why worry? Stack the dishes and let them air dry. Give the whole kitchen a lick and promise because tomorrow’s gonna be a great day too.
It’s a day for curiosity. Maybe I’ll open a new book or page through an old one. It’s a day to live astonished. Or curious. Delighted. Or Daring. It’s a day for supposing. For wonder. A day to ask a question and then find an answer. To take a chance. Stand up. Speak out. Share.
Today’s a great day.
It’s a day for movement. For walking. Climbing. Biking. Waving. Smiling. Swimming. Dancing. Singing. A day for leaping before looking. For whistling. And blowing bubbles.
It’s a great day. A day for wishing on dandelions and stars and birthday candles. A day for hoping against hope. For dreaming. And today’s a day for giving. My time. Attention. Eye-contact. Forgiveness. An invitation. A compliment. Some just-baked cookies. A donation. My thanks.
Today’s a great day to listen. Birds and breezes. Kids in the pool. Conversations in the car. The solid th-wack of a satisfying backhand.
It’s a day for work. I write. Plan. Clean. Think.
Or why not rest? Read. Rock. Day-dream. Breathe.
Today’s a beautiful day for beginnings. For beauty. For kindness. It’s a fine day for chasing rainbows and believing in miracles.
Today’s a great day.
Let’s live it.
(In case anyone else needs a little encouragement today.)
You can do it.
Whatever — it — is.
So go ahead. Light a candle. Take a deep breath. Make space. Clear your calendar. Find an opportunity.
And do it.
Take the photograph. Hike the mountain. Paint that wall. Or a watercolor. Swim in a cool, clear lake. Chase the sunset. Follow a thunderstorm.
Ask for help. Seek community. A kindred spirit. Reach out.
Press your luck. Find your fortune. Act on the dream. Lose your way. Find it again. Follow your instincts. Take a chance. Roll the dice. Trust.
You can do it.
Which of your many thoughts just won’t go away? What keeps you awake in the middle of the night? Who’s on your mind? Where do you need to be? Feed the craving. Satisfy your thirst. Give yourself a little nudge. Get started. Be brave. Hold your nose. And jump.
Ready? Set? Go!
Write the chapter. Book the trip. Find that friend you’ve been thinking about all these years. Lose the weight. Schedule the appointment. Plant a meadow. Follow a new path.
Why wait ‘til tomorrow? Forget the forecast. Go anyway. Simplify. Streamline. Speak your truth. Believe.
Cheer yourself on. Pat your own back. Keep your own promises.
I’m a list maker. A note taker. A sometime journaler. A writer in the margins. Scraps of thoughts. A wisp of an idea. The tinkle of a phrase or whisper of a word. I write them all down.
This is the summer of new adventures. I’m driving down roads I’ve never been down before. Exploring. Growing. Getting down to the basics of living a full life. Good health. Gratitude. Beauty. And happiness there for the noticing. Ah. The noticing.
Happiness, I’ve discovered, is not some designated point on the timeline of my life, some ultimate destination, or final achievement. It arrives in single moments – simple moments – and I’ve learned how important it is to be paying attention.
What makes me happy in the course of a single day?
Depends on the day of course. The season. Me. Responsibilities. What happys me one day is circumstantial to the life I’m living right there and then. Such moments pass quickly, easily-forgotten, and replaced by the next, newest, present breath, vision, or feeling.
Which is why I’m keeping a list.
For me, happiness is all wrapped up with a bow of gratitude, so maybe a happiness list is a lot like a gratitude list, but whatever I call it, I want to be sure my days, my newest adventures, and the smallest, happiest moments of my life are recognized and recorded.
Like a child emptying my pockets of treasures at the end of the day, here’s the happy list from just one afternoon in Vermont:
- the lush green of trees bordering a hiking trail
- the sound of rushing water
- still pond reflections
- a forest floor full of ferns dappled by sunlight
- the smell of just mowed hay
- sun on my face
- Vermont’s state colors: verdant green, the deepest sky blue, barn red, and crisp, white clouds
- the curve of fence posts up toward the horizon
- baby sheep
- curtains billowed by the breeze
I want to live a wonder-full life, awestruck and gratitude filled. Celebrating the regular alongside the unfamiliar and unexpected. Using all of my senses to experience the day I’m living right this very minute. Breathing deeply. Smiling. And satisfied.
What’s on your list?
I’ve been measuring time in flowers. Watching spring unfold petal by petal. Open. Warm. (Sometimes.)
After the dormancy of a long, difficult winter, the beauty is there for the noticing in real time. The first unfurl of a leaf, a sudden bright shock of forsythia by the side of a salty, winter sand-covered road, and just now the peonies by the front porch, plump and ready to burst.
Life cycles, of course. Even within a season. Memories attach to events and flowers mark places along a continuum. I wonder if I’ll ever again see an early crocus in bloom without remembering a friend, lost too soon this spring. Or breathe another lilac perfumed breeze without remembering Mother’s Day. In the spaces between, I’m mentally tracking time in tulips and daffodils, following spring’s slow but steady march until summer comes.
Hope follows despair as bloom follows an empty landscape.
Summer’s about ready to take her turn, and just today I discovered wild daisies! Already. Almost before I was ready. The iris in front of that yellow house down the street is in bloom. Those iris always bloom the week before the last day of school. Another flower on the timeline and a consistency I can count on.
The point is, I suppose, is to know where you are at all times. More aware. More present. Equally intentional and spontaneous. There are flowers to count time by and tides rolling in on schedule. Places to go. Things to do. People to meet. I’m always optimistic at the crest of a new season. More ready to begin again, make good on promises to myself I may have broken in seasons past, itchy to explore all my life has to offer.
Lots to do … before the sunflowers rise.
The green pepper I diced this afternoon for our Labor Day potato salad was just picked and still warm from the sun shining on our little garden out back. Just hours earlier, we were riding cresting wave after wave, collecting sun-bleached shells, feeling a little like eight-year-olds, and caring not one bit.
The passage of time is guaranteed and one for-certain constant in this ever-changing world. Cycle follows cycle as seasons turns from one to the next. Tides rise and fall, always reaching and retreating, pulling, pushing, and steady. I followed the flight of two Monarch butterflies across the sand today, wishing them well on their migration journey and thanking them for stopping for just a moment on mine.
One of these days soon, the green will go and the bluest skies I’ve ever seen will fade. But maybe the joy’s in the noticing what’s now. And just now, the sun’s setting almost down below the treetops, warming our garden for a few minutes more.
A few minutes more.
I may not be ready to replace the shells I’ve collected this summer with pots of mums on the stoop. But there’s that potato salad for dinner, corn on the cob fresh from the farm, and the lushest garden tomatoes to savor as their juice drips down my chin.
And I’m happy.
Here and now.
Nike got it right.
Just Do It.
Brilliance in only three, one-syllable words.
I spend so many days busily living the norm. Whatever the time of year, days have a certain flow and rhythm, regular and habitual tasks, and the occasional moment of spontaneity where life feels a little more fun and free.
There’s also an on-going and ever evolving list playing on repeat reel in my mind. To-dos, yes, but also want-to-dos. Should dos. Wish I coulds. And someday whens.
Here’s where Just Do It must’ve been born. Maybe we all have such a list playing like background music in our private thoughts. And instead of just thinking and dreaming and planning and wishing and waiting and … hoping … we should just do it already.
Whatever it is.
As of this morning:
- write every day
- open an Etsy shop
- ride my bike to work
- morning yoga
- make a salad
- make do
- sit with it
- invest in photography lighting and a new tripod
- (see make do)
- mend that missing button
- take a pottery lesson
- experiment with photographing people (kids especially!)
- experiment with minimalism in photography
- walk the beach
- put down my phone
- finish that book
- train for another marathon (or half … or 5K)
- walk after dinner
- climb a mountain
Whatever shall I do today?