Now that I am no longer mesmerized by the rock concert of neurosis thrumming loudly in my brain, it’s easier to appreciate the nuances, to spend the time that used to luxuriate in a deep pocket of imagineering and instead notice the way the setting sun hits the underside of a plant in my writing instructor’s Upper East Side apartment. The quality of life has shifted, and here I am, present and accounted for, in my real-live waking life.
Yesterday I ran around Prospect Park and while dashing to the final water fountain found my nose being softly pet by the scent of a flower, possibly lavender, possibly heaven. It was so dericious I had to close my eyes for a second, feeling the crunch of organic non-asphalt under my shoe, and make a tiny humming noise to myself at the cottony way this flower bathed my nostrils. So much better than the way that the air in Williamsburg makes my little nose-holes feel.
And then at dinner, I was chomping away on some gnocchi when my tongue began to float through the food. I smooshed it around, pushed my tongue through the textures and flavors, closed my eyes and breathed in the aroma of good food, opened my eyes and really looked at my dinner companion and thought, This is all so wonderful.
These little things, little ways the universe treats us kindly with its surprise gifts, like quarters in sofa cushions, little ways in which we can treat ourselves kindly, little gestures of kindness from other people, strangers or close friends or anywhere in between. Like leaving stuff out curbside with a note, “I still work!” Or making eye contact and smiling encouragingly to the huffing, puffing woman who is running the other direction. Or plopping a nice big orange right where you know it will be seen.
“Don’t forget to eat,” says that juicy orange, and as I feel its juices exploding out of each section, swirling against the insides of my cheeks, I listen to the birdies chirping, and feel the cool air against my skin, and this symphony of actual real life — sigma, little things, zero to infinity –
I’m grateful.