A couple of weeks back, I heard Ross Gay talk about his work, The Book of Delights, on one of my favorite podcasts, We Can Do Hard Things with writer Glennon Doyle and her wife Abby (as in Wambach, for you Sporty Spices out there) and her sister Amanda. Gay spent an entire year, writing short essays focused on the delights he found in the world. His rules were pretty simple -- He vowed to write every single day, the essays had to be completed in a short amount of time (I want to say 30 mins. or less, but don't quote me on that), and they had to be about what Gay found delightful in the world.
So, this is a cool concept for several reasons. Too often, I'll find myself not writing because "I don't have enough time to write something good enough" or because I simply get busy doing other more "important" things. Also, these days, it's so easy to find what's awful about the world, isn't it? There is no shortage of doomsday proclamations in nearly every arena, and we can easily slip down the spiral of calamity. Ross Gay intentionally sought delight in the world.
All this begs the question -- what, actually, is DELIGHT?
According to my friends over at Merriam-Webster:
Of course, delight can also be a verb (both transitive and intransitive -- how versatile!)
This may lead us to think that Ross Gay's book on delight is filled with sunshine and rainbows. Spoiler alert: it's not. In the podcast conversation, Gay spoke about the complexities of life and how delight can show up even in the most unlikely of places.
I've decided that, for the month of December, I will intentionally seek delight where she may be found (and I have a suspicion, she is very nearly omnipresent). Rather than bog down my blog with daily posts about delight (no offense to your book concept, Ross -- just trying to do my own thing here), I've decided to do a weekly post of 5 or so delights instead. This post comes out on a Thursday, so that seems as good a day as any! Let's get started, shall we?
Denise's Delights (Because Who Doesn't Delight in Alliteration?)
1. My Advent Wreath - it's simple and plain and probably beneath the standards of every crafty person I know, but for me, it's just perfect. The only thing I would change is to have actual purple tapers, not the burgundy ones I had to settle for because I waited until the last minute, but hey -- it is what it is.
2.
My cozy little corner (cue Cinderella, "In my own little corner, in my own little chair...") of our bedroom. While I agree with Virginia Woolf that every woman needs a room of one's own in their house, it's not always been feasible over the years. I had a beautiful office that doubled as my podcast studio, when I was recording
Join the Conversation with Denise Clark, but then we moved. Then we opened our doors and our hearts to some bonus kiddos, and besides, I have an office at work, so a home office became less of a priority for now. (I'm totally fine with this, by the way. Everything has a season, and now I even have a desk in the laundry room. Progress!)
My cozy corner consists of a 200 year+ rocking chair that my great-great grandfather died in after eating a good meal, a loveseat I consistently share with one (or more) of our dogs, a lamp/side table, some shelves with books and plants, candles, a diffuser, and a fabric reprint of Starry Night hanging on the wall. It's where I write, meditate, practice yoga, read, and simply be. The rest of the house tends to be functional (though warm and inviting) and used by all. My cozy corner is usually mine, though I occasionally find one of my kids or my husband curled up with a good book or their phone there, too.
3.
Making music with other people. I sing in a choir, and
as I've written about before, I play in a flute choir as well. There is something to be said for being in the same space with people, making music together. It's indescribable, really. There's all sorts of science that supports why it's good for us to breathe and make sound in sync with others, but it's not really about the science for me. It's more a feeling, a collective consciousness that transcends any individual musician. It's true delight.
4. Days I don't set an alarm. I'm an early bird and always have been, and I don't mind waking up at 5 AM each day. But there is something magical, or rather, delightful, about waking up naturally. I rarely sleep in by any reasonable standards, but just knowing I can trust my body to wake me up when she's ready to start the day brings a certain joy to the day that isn't usually there.
5. The way our dog Molly acts like a person. Molly is a rescue, saved from a likely puppy mill where she had to fight for food and was deemed useless because she couldn't carry puppies to term. She came to us with staples in her legs, where the vet had repaired wounds given to her by other dogs. She has an adorably messy habit of "hiding" her dog food under the bowl stand, stemming from her ongoing food scarcity mindset. But, she's settled into domestic life like a boss. When she lies down, she uses pillows like a human, with her face curled up, neck supported. She's no dummy -- she knows what blankets are for:
Knowing her background makes me delight even more in Molly's molly-ness.
So there you go! My delights for the week. Guess what? It's your turn. I challenge you to find delight in your day today. You may find her in the most unlikely of places, but I am sure delight is waiting in just the right spot for you.
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