Finding Small Joys in Ordinary Days
Just existing in the world can be a lot of work these days, navigating the news and daily pressures. Take every chance to find the small joyful moments in life.
Finding Small Joys in Ordinary Days
Just existing in the world can be a lot of work these days, navigating the news and daily pressures. It’s too easy to focus on the negatives. Managing stress comes in many different forms for people, from meditation and gentle walks to gardening and regular good sleep. Take every chance to find joyful moments in life. I think of seizing upon these small moments of happiness as a much-needed recalibration.
I am also partial to a good list. So much can be learned from found lists, whether they’re left inadvertently in returned library books or preserved in hundreds-year-old shipping accounts. Here is a rambling collection of things that have brought me small joys in recent weeks.
1. That first cup of tea, regardless of how well, or not, I’ve slept. The second tea is also appreciated, but somehow that first one is always the best. My first tea of the morning was always drunk from my large, floral china teacup, but a bit over a year ago it broke. I was bereft for months. I have new teacups now, but they will never be the same.
My mother bought my cup and saucer from a coffee shop she used to frequent two houses ago. She also bought my sister a similar (but not the same) one for her morning coffee. My sister drinks coffee in the morning and I drink tea. We both think the other is deluded. The shop no longer exists.
2. Unexpected Saturday afternoon beers with a friend. I got a message in the morning while I was out walking, seized the moment, called her back, and firmed up plans. Hours were wiled away over several beers and excellent Philly cheesesteaks in a dark bar. There’s nothing like connecting with friends to remind you how delightful the simple things in life can be.
3. Yes, it is still deep summer, but the arrival of figs hints that autumn is no longer a far-off idea. Figs are a short-lived luxury — fragile, fleeting, and totally worth it. They’re a glam little fruit that looks like it came straight out of a Renaissance still life. I love them with blue cheese, crispy pancetta, on pizzas, in salads, or scoffed from the bag while walking home from the market.
4. A well-made sandwich. I could deliver an entire thesis on my thoughts about sandwiches, but I won’t this time. I will, however, posit the following as a template for a good sandwich:
Balance of flavours and textures is crucial, not only from a construction point of view but also a taste perspective.
Season your ingredients like you would anything else.
Consider the vehicle. Is this bread/roll/carb appropriate for the intended filling?
Don’t forget the fundamental law that a sandwich made for you by a loved one will always taste better than one you make yourself.
What’s your mood? This, above all, will lead you toward your perfect sandwich.
As Helen Rosner outlines in this post, air is also an important component.
5. The egg foam coffee at Cham Café in Melbourne. It’s a sweetened, frothy egg foam shrouding the iced black coffee underneath. Born in Hanoi in the 1940s, egg yolk was whipped as a creamy substitute for milk. If you live in Melbourne, don’t sleep on this one.
6. Crunchy Nut Cornflakes with cold, full-cream milk. Oh yes, elite-level snack in my books, any time of day. If you’re unaware of my thoughts on breakfast, this should clear things up. Yes, I like highbrow food, but I also like more democratic snacks too.
7. Laying on the grass in the nearby public gardens watching clouds go by. I can hear the low thrum of a plane, the squeal of a far-off tram taking a corner and, if I listen hard, chatter from small groups of picnickers enjoying their al fresco lunch. Fresh cut grass brings a pleasant smell and a persistent itch where my skin leans against it. There’s a gentle breeze like a too-warm pool providing no relief from the heat.
Small joys help remind me of my place in the world, right here, right now. They are tangible reminders of life outside the digital realm. I walk most mornings, and putting one foot in front of the other is one way I reconnect with my body, my neighbourhood, and the passing of time. Not everything needs to be optimised, documented, or shared. Some things can just be noticed, enjoyed, and quietly held onto — like a good sandwich, a fleeting season, or that first cup of tea.
Me, Myself, and a Good Meal
Eating solo means eating however you like and that includes licking the plate. Dining alone isn’t always a delight, but it can be.
Roasted Beetroot with Chèvre Cream
Earthy roasted purple and golden beetroots are natural bedfellows to a mellow goats cheese. Leaves of roasted red onion add a sweet dimention - plus it's pretty as a picture.