January Delights

Reading Ross Gay's essays in The Book of Delights got me started on a practice in my journal of recording "today's delights." I kept it up for months, learning along the way that if I looked for delights I found them. In any day, no matter what else happened, I could pause and truly pay attention for a moment. When I did, there waited delight.

At some point for unknown reasons I fell out of the habit. I might occasionally note delights in a day but I stopped setting up my journal each morning with that heading that established up front the expectation that I'd find things to put on the list.

I'm now reading Gay's The Book of (More) Delights and restoring my habit of expecting each day to hold some delights. And sure enough, there they are, just waiting to be noticed. 

Sometimes I notice scents or flavors: A hot, good-bitter cup of coffee fresh from the French press. The aroma of bread I'm baking made with my sourdough starter and whole wheat flours grown in the Chimacum Valley on the Olympic Peninsula. Hot spiciness of tofu seasoned with gochujang, sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic and ginger and crisped up in the oven's air fryer setting. The apple ginger jelly I made last fall on a toasted English muffin.

Some of the delights are visual: One tiny white daisy, then another, then realizing the lawn ahead of me was filled with them and it was only January 11th. The very next day spotting a bush full of blush pink flowerheads starting to open. Occidental Square in Seattle full of trees covered with tiny white lights, glowing in the darkness. Sunlight reflecting like dancing mirrors on the waters of the bay when the surface ripples. Reflections of lights seeming to shoot up from the bottom of the bay in the dark like streaks of fireworks when the water is smooth. A stump in the nearby park absolutely covered with hen of the woods mushrooms and topped with a bright green moss toupee.

Other delights are tactile: A hot, hot shower. Stepping outside under blue skies in winter and actually feeling warmth from the sun overhead. The silky softness of our cat's fur when he's lying on my lap so I can pet him (rather than being a wildcat trying to stop me from typing on my laptop by swiping at my hands when I'm trying to work—oops, not a delight, more of an anti-delight).

The delight can be sounds: Deep, resonant tones as the windchimes outside my office tap each other. Birds twittering or calling. The knock-knock-knocking I heard on a walk in the rhododendron patch that turned out to be a big pileated woodpecker knocking loose chunks of bark, then cocking its head to one side and then the other to listen for its insect lunch.

Some are social: Riding the train to Seattle with a friend, both of us working away in the dining car and asking each other stray questions. Getting two compliments from strangers in the same day on my dark teal jacket worn over a teal dress, both of them saying how great the color was on me. Talking with people I haven't seen in a long time, in person and not on a screen. Going to a performance of "Ms. Holmes and Ms. Watson" with friends and realizing it's been far too long since I watched live theater. Laughing so hard I cried in improv class as two people brought characters to life and kept ramping up to another level of hilarity. Biking to the office and back with a friend, chatting along the way.

Many of them have to do with nature: The bright red flash of spotted towhees at the suet cage hanging in a tree right outside my office window, then the flutter of more wings as dark-eyed juncos and others come in to join the feast. Changes in the weather that give me the chance to take a walk during a break in the rain, or the wind sweeping everything clean. Signs that the world keeps turning and the seasons keep changing no matter what humans do.

Even on days that hold moments (or hours) of chaos, tension, or uncertainty, that day also holds delights. I'll offer up my January 31st list as an example:

• Rain break that let me take a 30-minute park walk
• Revisiting the stump covered in hen of the woods with its mossy toupee
• Yard bunny!
• Exploring an Asian market, finding spices and sauces
• Heat of Thai food that made me keep taking another bite

May you find delight in each day. It's there, if you look for it.