In this series, I am exploring the practice of delight. It’s a mindset. It is mindfulness. It asks you to be open to receiving gifts unexpected. It was taught to me by two artists who shared their delights with me. So far, this is what I know:
Delight is to be shared.
Delight is to be offered in friendship.
Delight is to be centred and made into art.
These are my discoveries this month. Tell me, what delights you? What was shared with you? Leave a comment.
As I build awareness around my sense of delight, I am realizing that it rarely shows up on its own. With it comes feelings of astonishment, of joy, of comfort. Pinpointing the nuances of the moment must surely benefit me when I turn to acts of creation.
1. Miniatures
Delight + A Sense of Marvel
My family isn’t big. Yes, our families are big, with many aunts and uncles and cousins, but I’m talking about our stature. Neither my husband nor I come from a line of giants, and tall people run scarce in our family trees.
A few weeks ago, we travelled with our children to a family gathering — a campout weekend in the country. Our car is rather small, wouldn’t you know, and despite our best efforts, the tent and camping gear would not fit. In search of a solution, I quickly searched AirBnB and laughed aloud inn glee when I found this:
A tiny home! And it was located just down the road from our gathering.
I love miniatures. One of my favourite gifts as a child was a built-to-size stereo cabinet that fit perfectly in my Barbie home. There were tiny records to placed on the record player, and I could play music with the touch of a button. Fortunately for my bank account, I have avoided dollhouses as an adult. I might like that hobby too much. Instead, I run my fingers over the tiny pieces of furniture in the miniatures aisle at Michaels.
But with the tiny home, there was no choice, was there? We needed a roof over our heads! We needed to sleep somewhere! And so we booked it.
It lived up to its name. It was a tiny home. It was a two-storey structure the size of a garden shed, decorated so prettily I was charmed. Card games and books sat in small baskets under the window, a tiny Nespresso sat on the kitchen cart, and we climbed a ladder to the loft above, which fit only a double bed. When the futon on the main floor folded out, my daughter and I realized it was practically twin size. We ended up in fits of giggles when we crawled in beside each other.
Perhaps it is the allure of holding a world in your hand that is so enchanting. Maybe it is the ability to see it all as one organized, sensical whole. Or maybe it is the experience of adjusting my sense of self and size in the world like Alice in Wonderland. Whatever — what delight!
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PS. I forgot to leave a review for the tiny home, so help me make it up to the owner by visiting his listing! Next time you find yourself near Arnprior, consider it.
A BRIEF INTERRUPTION:
Have I told you about my monthly accountability sessions for writers? We meet on the third Sunday of the month for a quick Zoom call where we share our goals for the upcoming month. Is this something you need? The next call is this Sunday, September 17 at 7 p.m. EST. Register today at this link.
2. Unexpected Singalongs
Delight + Astonishment
We listen to the radio a lot, especially in the car. We sing to the Top 40.
Being in my late 40s now, and being someone who doesn’t watch videos for fun, I’m not always up on the latest music until I hear it on the radio.
An unfamiliar tune was playing during a quick car ride to the mall. The kids were silent, so I imagined it was new to them, too, but when a rap interlude broke in (is it called an ‘interlude’? I’m so very unhip!), our vehicle was suddenly filled with the voices of both kids rapping along in unison. I hooted with surprise. They knew every word! When each realized the other knew the words too, they cracked big grins, and all disagreements and sibling disputes between them disappeared. They sang together right to the end, and I smiled from ear to ear.
Singing: It’s an easy way to clear the cobwebs out of our hearts.

3. Blue Jays
Delight + Welcome
Watching the Toronto Blue Jays in person might be delightful, especially on a hot day with a cold beer in hand, but I’m not talking about those blue jays. I want to tell you about the six — SIX! — blue jays who have moved into our neighbourhood.
I live in a city that was devastated by pollution early last century. The fallout from the mining industry killed the vegetation. When I was growing up, we climbed the black rocks surrounding us, and we could travel for ages on foot before we lost sight of the town because there were so few trees left. We rarely saw bird species outside of robins and chickadees.
An intensive regreening effort has been successful, and forested areas are returning to us. Animals and wildlife have returned, too. Black bears regularly cross our streets in the early morning hours, lynx wait patiently for prey in the underbrush, and hares move into our backyards in winter. The raccoons returned last summer much to the dismay of the ravens, judging from a days-long battle in the treetops behind our house. But I’ve rarely seen a blue jay.
So when I spotted one last week, I jumped up to watch it. I even ran across the yard to get a better look. Me, running!
A blue jay is far from inconspicuous with its vibrant colours and its loud squawk. When I hear one, I am always reminded of the blue jay in the 1980s children’s cartoon Fables of the Green Forest, whose job it was to warn his forest friends of imminent danger with calls of “Trouble! Trouble!” (And then I hear the theme song play over and over in my mind until I sleep.)
My delight in spotting the blue jay was multiplied, however, when I heard another call back to the first. And then another. And another. Furious wing-beating followed as the birds flew out from the big pines and oaks behind us. Four! Five! No, six!
Like newspaper boys, they shouted out their news and winged over to the next street corner. They returned the next day, and they are still nearby. There’s trouble to squawk about, according to these treetop reporters, and I’m betting the raccoons have something to do with it.
YOUR TURN: Do you know someone who seeks out the astonishing and wonderful? What have you learned from them? What do we do with our collections of delights?
About this newsletter: 3 Items of Small Delight is only one of three ‘departments’ in my newsletter The Book Case. In other issues, I will share more about writing with purpose, from my perspective as a book coach. Coming soon: How do we choose the books we read? (I’ll be asking you, too!)
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