Micro joys in a time of macro grief

When we focus in on the micro moments, we begin to realize what the macro world cannot obliterate no matter how bad it seems.

(Courtesy photo of CINDY SCHULTZ)

On one of the last warm days of autumn, when most of the leaves had fallen but enough remained to give the world a heavenly glow, I interrupted my workday to drive across town and walk the trails of Five Rivers Environmental Education Center in Delmar. Once I crossed the little wooden bridge and rounded the path, it was like stepping into a golden cathedral, only rather than filtering through stained glass panes, the afternoon light poured through red, orange, yellow and brown leaves. I felt as though I’d fallen through the looking glass and right into a Mary Oliver poem. She once wrote, “When I am among the trees … they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say that they save me, and daily.” It’s not far off from the famous line by Fyodor Dostoevsky in “The Idiot:” “Beauty will save the world.”

It got me thinking about the state of our world and the way it can wear us down, and what things we can do to restore a sense of sanity and serenity to daily life. It turns out those trees, along with dragonflies and a gurgling stream led me straight to the heart of the matter. The key to staving off the madness is not to read every headline as soon as we wake up and doomscroll until we fall asleep. It’s to make our world smaller, not intellectually but physically and emotionally smaller. Find the sacred in fading beauty outside your window, around the table with your family, in the silence before the Blessed Sacrament in an otherwise empty church. When we focus in on the micro moments, we begin to realize what the macro world cannot obliterate no matter how bad it seems. But this requires a willingness to get curious, to pay attention, to revel in God’s gifts, and to venture off the beaten path in order to discover hidden gems that will bring light to our souls and joy to our days.

I almost skipped my recent walk because I thought maybe I should try to squeeze in one more hour of responding to emails or posting to social media. I briefly thought, “What’s the point?” After all, I knew the trees will be mostly bare, and surely my favorite lily pond would be empty of the pink lotus blossoms and shiny green frogs that populate it during warmer months. Why bother? Because the point of the journey is not to find exactly what we expect all the time but to open ourselves up to what we do not expect and might not ever imagine. And that, in essence, is what the spiritual journey is about — a willingness to be surprised by God.

Granted, not all surprises are a stroll in the sunlit woods. Many of them take us deep into the darkest places of our lives. Who can blame us for wanting to avoid those moments? But we know that no amount of running or hiding can keep the difficult things at bay. They will arrive and demand our attention, whether they go willingly or kicking and screaming the whole way. When we can move through life with attention and intention, however, we find pockets of pure goodness and joy in the most unlikely and even challenging places.

In his book “The Fifth Season: Creativity in the Second Half of Life,” author Mark Nepo writes: “When we give our all to the immediacy of life by being present and creative, such engagement keeps rejuvenating us. And feeling that something is both fresh and familiar, both new and ancient, is an aspect of Oneness that visits us when we hold nothing back.”

No matter what the world throws at us, if we keep returning to God present in the little details of everyday existence, we will find ourselves rejuvenated. And can’t we all use a little more of that these days? Micro joys just might hold the key. It’s a small world, after all.

Mary DeTurris Poust is a writer, retreat leader, and spiritual director living in the Capital Region. Visit her website at NotStrictlySpiritual.com.