Noticing Tiny Glimmers

I remember after Douglas, my son, shed his earth suit, I recoiled when I heard the word, joy. I still can at times if I’m being brutally honest, because it feels as if it’s the Holy Grail on top of the furthest mountain peak. Just out of reach, reminding me of a dream I had the other night of being on a phone call where a needed conversation was happening, yet my voice could not be heard. Hearing clearly what the person on the other end was expressing to me, yet my words were like chaff in the wind, landing nowhere.

I came across “glimmers” recently. Glimmers are small, positive moments that bring feelings of joy, peace, and gratitude. They can be simple experiences that spark a sense of well-being. It is the opposite of a trigger, and our brains are trained to pick up and hold tightly to the negative, yet what if we can also strengthen and nurture pathways for tiny glimmers too?

I can still recall my favorite dress up shoes as a child. They had tiny heels which made me feel so grown up. Covered with silver sparkles and tiny straps. As soon as I slipped my little feet into them I could be transported anywhere. I felt sparkly, shimmering, and I adored that sensation. As children, we can access those glimmers because our beings are still so new and actively grounded into the present moment.

Daily, can I look to nature, sensory experiences, acts of kindness, moments of connection, personal achievements, simple pleasures and gratitude to help me grow and hone this part of my brain? I recall engaging this practice with my children when they were growing up. I asked them to share three positive events that happened at school, before we were diving head first into the hard things. So often as they finished, they had forgotten what had been a challenge, or if it required needed air time, it felt more manageable. It could be addressed from a calmer state, than one of agitation. Truly, a family hack that served us well, and continues to.

Glimmers are everywhere, just waiting for my attentiveness to them. They feel like oxygen permeating the air I’m breathing. The more I am engaging within this practice, the more expansive my lungs and wider my gaze becomes.

• The quiet of the morning before nature has awakened.

• The explosion of hues of pink and orange that dance across the sky at sunrise.

• A sandpiper who is the early bird who catches the worms. Also, the last one to stop her foraging as the night shadows lengthen.

• My body who is grateful I’m listening to her as to how best care for her needs. Did I always, of course not, and oh, she tattles and reminds me of those times too.

• Hearing my darling kindergarten class outside my library window chant my name. Not stopping until I appear and wave hello from my perch. Wide grins and small hands waving.

• Laughter in all its cadences.

• A text from my grand daughter, Eden, already asking me if we’ll go shopping this summer? She’s planning ahead.

• Getting to know our new puppy, Trinie. Earning her trust, observing her watching me, and becoming comfortable with our daily routine.

• Hearing, “I love you.”

• Connecting with my family/friends who check in to inquire as to how I am, and linger long enough to hear my reply.

• The aroma of a spiced pumpkin candle all year round.

• A deep inhale, pause and longer exhale.

• Hearing something on a podcast or reading an exquisite piece of poetry which inspires me.

• An acknowledgement, a wave, a thank you, during a season of my life where one can at times feel invisible.

• Spreading generously, Margy’s Marmalade, on my buttered toast. A recent gift from my first best pal, we were three when our families met. She made it with her ninety-five year old friend, Joan.

• The slow hush of nature as the sun sets splashing her colors about, noticing how each bird returns and settles into their rightful places for the evening.

  
  

  

  Trinie communing with her dragon

  
  

  

  Margy's marvelous marmalade made with her dear friend, Joan