On the Interaction of Grief and Glimmers
When all the big things fall apart, sometimes all we have left are the little ones. Also, did I mention that I got a new pen?
At the beginning of this year, I resolved to write something everyday: several pages or a couple of lines, in my journal or typed on a Google Doc or scrawled on a napkin. Just something, every single day for a year. For the most part, I’ve kept this resolution, and one of the things I find myself doing most often is jotting down a little list of moments I’d like to remember from that day.
These little entries include such varied topics as:
”Little sparrows with brown wings and grey-blue heads politely requesting a bit of my second breakfast as I sit outside eating it on the patio.”
“The way Suki’s ears peep over the backseat as we drive her to the dog park.”
”The number of happy little interactions I had with coworkers today because of my new cat pen.” (It has a little yellow cat on top with a tail that clicks up and down-it’s the best.)
“Munching on a clementine, folding laundry, curtains thrown open and morning sunlight streaming in.”
I also find that these little tidbits are some of my favorite to reread, as they bring back the positive emotions that I felt when they occurred. They have been an especially powerful pocket of light for me during recent weeks, as loss and grief have become constant companions.
When it feels like all the big things are falling apart, sometimes all I can manage to find hope in is the way that my basil plant scents the night air when I step outside my backdoor, or how cute the pink heart shaped straw that came with my latte is.
In a Youtube video on her channel “Darling Desi”, Desi explains how she’s decided to make an effort to find “glimmers” of this sort in her daily life. She defines glimmers as the opposites of triggers: “little moments that spark joy and have a positive effect on our mental health”. It turns out, I’ve been writing down glimmers all year, and I’m so much better for it.
I’m not the only one to record little bits of prose like this. One of my favorite authors, Emily P Freeman, includes a section in her “Next Right Thing” journal called “These are the Days of”. It’s a section for taking note of the simple, often mundane moments that define our daily lives.
At the end of each month, she shares a series of photos under the same title on her Instagram story that have defined her month: pink trees in bloom, the texture of a welcoming honey brown front door, the fuzzy glow of a street lamp as the sun sets behind a historic college campus building. Every time I watch these stories, I appreciate the beauty captured in that moment; I feel the same joy that compelled her to take the picture.
There are many others who notice and share words in the same vein. Meera Lee Patel’s Substack called “Dear Somebody” comes to mind, where she shares five things she’d like to remember from each week.
What do I take from the fact that so many of my favorite authors and creatives choose to interact with the world in this way? I posit that: art can be as simple as a photo of a street lamp snapped before dusk. Glimmers are the building blocks of our daily lives, and our days are richer for taking note of beauty and sharing it with others.