The Little Things.

The feeling of flour or sand between your fingers.
The way the morning sun shines through your window curtains.
The taste of a hot cuppa on a cold winter day.
The sound of the birds when you open your windows in the spring.
The smell of fallen leaves after an autumn rain.

It is possible to feel content even when our lives aren’t the way we had hoped they would be. How? By noticing all of the magic of the everyday, by realizing that little details can bring us a feeling of joy. 

If we open ourselves up to beauty, it is all around us. The sacred can be found within the profane. The ordinary carries within it something inexpressibly lovely. 

A clothespin left behind at someone’s summer home by the sea.

Honing your skills in observation and presence can improve your quality of life. Picking up on the small things that bring us joy means a greater sense of happiness, even on the bad days. There is always something to notice and appreciate when we get out of our own way. If we could only stop wishing to be somewhere else, and instead find the contentment in things as they are, then we would all be the knowers of a great secret.

In my photography practice, I am drawn less to grand landscapes and more to the beauty of the mundane. A sunset on a mountaintop is of course awe-inspiring, but for most people, that is a rare occurrence. However, there is something special about catching the way the light shines through the leaves of a tree while you’re out for a walk, or in paying attention to the relaxing sound of waves while you’re near the coast. These moments happen all the time if we only keep ourselves open to them.

A set of clothes hangers through a shop window in Newport.

I find myself exploring details. I enjoy seeing things that other people might miss. Recently I happened to notice some long-forgotten bicycles which had become enveloped in an overgrown thicket. Then there was the dilapidated shack at the edge of a recently cleared lot. Or the blue scarf that had found its way into a tree on a cold December day. Even the overturned wheelbarrow, still full of sticks but long forgotten.

These details will tell us stories if we listen. And who doesn’t love a good story?