Seeking a bookmark this morning I came across a small envelope I made out of paper purchased years ago in Venice. Inside I discovered a tiny piece of Lokta paper completely filled with a list of things I love:
color * my eyes * cats * green places * trees * sunlight * sunsets * sunrises * heat * moonlight * moonphases * moonbeams * woods * wit * rain * dancing * kindness * the ability to learn * frogs * mystery * libraries * paper * stories * songs * poems * impulses of generosity * going to bed early to read * rising early to write * a good idea * feeling sexy and vigorous * June * October * snow * early leaves * lamplight glimpsed from the street * picnics * the sound of running water in the woods * herons and egrets * inspiration from and connection with the lives of wonderful writers * the smell of popcorn * the breakwater * salt air * pine trees * long walks * carrying a song * the right words at the right time * giddiness * twilight * fireflies * honey
I don’t remember making this list, but what a gift it was to my future self! Reading it this morning delivered an instant dose of – what? Happiness, yes, surely. But it also brought an energizing connection with the enduring interests and pleasures of my life which form a kind of unique history. It’s a miniature card catalog of my heart and mind, what I’ve been doing and where I’ve been. No matter what stories I might tell in a low moment about the past or even the present, I see that these loves have been my faithful companions at every step.
The same is true for you, my friend. I encourage you to take three minutes today and make a list of things you love. Tuck it away somewhere and forget about it. Future you may come upon it at some point and smile to see what a rich, interesting, luminous life you’ve been living all along.
It’s also a great way to write an easy poem today. If you try it, I’d love to read your list in the comments. One person’s loves tend to spark other people’s loves, and we all feel better/happier/truer/more hopeful/more freely ourselves.
