Starting small, growing in small ways
by Stephanie Piper
Forget low carbs and Botox. I read once that a surefire way to stay young was to be interested in big things and happy in small ways.
I am interested in a number of big things. I'd like to know why, in the 21st century, people continue to automatically reject what they do not understand. I want to know why the ocean is dark blue in New England and azure blue in Bermuda. I want to explore why it is that the furnace, if it's going to break down, waits for Christmas Eve. I'm interested in why men believe that putting dishes in the sink is the same as washing them. And I want to know what moisturizer Catherine Deneuve uses.
As for being happy in small ways, I believe that I am making progress. I no longer hold out for whole perfect days. I am learning the joy of a whole perfect hour. I am working toward an appreciation of whole perfect minutes. And I am revising my concept of perfect to include whatever is happening right now that is not life-threatening, boring, or contagious.
I am compiling a small personal catalog of small ways to be happy. Here's what I've got so far:
I am happy that there are still people who write real letters on real stationery. There is something both flattering and satisfying about a handwritten note. It means that the sender chose the paper and found a working pen and sat down to think about you for a few quiet minutes. The sight of my daughter-in-law's italic script on a cream-colored envelope lifts my spirits in a way no "You Have Mail" computer message ever will.
I am happy that back in the olden days of my secondary education, I was required to memorize Wordsworth and Keats and Shelley and Shakespeare and verses from "The Iliad" and "The Canterbury Tales." I can think of no practical application for any of this learning, which may be why I find it so valuable. It is simply beauty stored in my head, recited for my own pleasure on solitary walks or on sleepless nights. It is a mental safety net that has rescued my sanity on more than one occasion.
I am happy that certain bluebirds seem to find Knoxville is just far enough south for their migratory purposes. Or maybe they're always here, and I only notice them in these months of sticks and stark landscapes. In the winter twilight, they appear as drab as sparrows until they lift off in a burst of iridescent blue. They are ordinary until they spread their wings.
I am happy that the one constellation I recognize is clearly visible at last. Orion hunts above me on these chilly evenings, his outline sharp against the night sky. It took me years to find him. Now, I can't miss him.
I am happy that no one has discovered a link between chocolate and Alzheimer's disease.
I am happy that the babies I smile at in the supermarket almost always smile back.
I am happy that no one has invented a way to accelerate the seasons. It's the winter waiting that earns the spring.
It's a slim catalog, but it's a start. If staying young is about defeating gravity, I'll take small joys over Botox any day.
January 29, 2003 * Vol. 14, No. 5
© 2004 Metro Pulse
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