I’m fresh off of watching the movie Soul released on December 25th by Pixar, and I’m feeling incredibly refreshed and full of perspective. Pete Docter, the director and co-writer of the screenplay alongside Kemp Powers and Mike Jones, did a fantastic job capturing how pivotal the little things are to life. And more importantly, how all those little things are what fills our cup and create our purpose.
I’ve talked a lot about appreciation in my previous posts, but tonight I want to talk about some things I wrote about in my very first post, The Pursuit of Happiness (or a blog?). So to kick things off, I want to tell you why I started writing in the first place.
The entire reason I started writing can be traced back to a singular moment in eighth grade where my English teacher held me after class one day. She sat me down with my results from one of our standardized tests where we had to write about a method of transportation and told me I should consider writing more.
She told me I had a knack for it, and that my stories were filled with extraordinary color. While full of grammatical and copious spelling errors, they painted a picture. But to be fair, at the time I was more consumed with painting so I threw this idea on the back burner,
But over the years I kept dozens of journals, word documents, iPhone notes, google documents… everything. Documenting my thoughts, inspirations, lists of things I like, want to do, or dreams I have.
I even have a folder on my drive titled, “Letters to my future husband” because I'm for one, a romantic, and two, I wanted to give my future husband a look at random brief time snapshots of moments throughout my life.
When I studied abroad, almost six years ago now, one of my professors told me I had a way with storytelling that kept people reading. I didn’t really take that as a compliment, because just a few short months later my History professor when I was back at my university sat me down during his office hours and said my essays were scattered, unorganized, and made readers lost.
But all of that, all the commentary, the tiny tidbits, pushed me to continue to write things down. And eventually inspired me to write things down here. It’s not for you, but for me to share with you. It’s my way of sharing a tiny bit of my brain with yours so that hopefully it inspires something inside of you.
The fact is, it’s important to me that I write. If you were to walk into my tiny New York City apartment, there are about three journals sitting on my dresser. All three journals are scattered with my recent ideas, work notes, lists, and so on. Each page is an organized mess, but there is no method to the ordered madness, might I add. It's my brain on paper, as my friends would say.
I write everything down because I want to remember the little (and big) things, for myself.
The random songs that pop in my head. The smell of a vanilla candle burning in my mom’s kitchen. The feeling of freshly washed jeans, no matter how tight they are to get on after they’ve been freshly dried. The feeling of grabbing onto someone’s arm when you’re ice skating and are about to fall. The random Valentine’s Day card I received in high school, and the breakup that followed a few months later. An incredibly empty Times Square in the middle of a global pandemic. The euphoric moment of getting into the college I had been dreaming of. The feelings I have about people, things, places…
All of them. All the little things.
Those random songs that pop into my head? I share them to my Instagram Stories or I add them to a playlist I'm currently jamming to.
The smell of vanilla in my mother's kitchen? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve written down “the smell of vanilla” in my “favorite things” note on my phone.
Those freshly washed jeans? Yep, that’s on the top of my list when it comes to laundry. (Either that or I stick them in my freezer)
Grabbing onto another person’s arm when I was ice skating? Of course, I wrote it down. I was petrified of falling and accidentally slicing my fingers off.
A Valentine’s Day card I received from my high school boyfriend? It’s stuffed in a box sitting in my parent’s guest bedroom closet with a note I wrote to myself describing the relationship, the breakup, and why we’d never, ever get back together.
An incredibly empty Times Square? When my brother came to town back in November, we ventured to Times Square masks and all to check it out. And I, of course, had to take a photo and write about it in a letter later that evening.
That moment when I got into the University of Tennessee? You’d better believe I posted a Facebook status about this back in 2011.
All the feelings I have about people, things, places? I write them down. Sometimes here, sometimes in my journal or my phone… I document them because I want to in a way relive them and reflect later. Whether later may be the following day, month, or years down the road.
I find joy in appreciating all those little things, and solace in being able to read how I was feeling at the time… happy, sad, frustrated, whatever it may be.
All this brings me to say how important all those little things are in filling that cup of yours I mentioned above.
There is nothing more soothing to me than the smell of my mother’s perfume, the one she wore when I was a child. She’ll occasionally put it on, or will wear an old sweater that still holds the scent. And every time I get a whiff of it, it takes me back to my carefree, strong-willed girl, wanderlust filled childhood.
The first cup of coffee I drink in the morning before a crazy workday is probably one of my favorite moments of the day. It’s one of the single things I have to myself each day. Walking down 12th street out of Saltwater back to my apartment. The smell of the coffee after I’ve taken the lid off because it’s too hot and I’m afraid to burn my tongue.
Rising sunlight in the very early morning when I’ve forgotten to close my blackout curtains all the way is an annoying joy I smile about. As the sun creeps in through the crack in my curtains and I see it reflecting on the apartments on the opposite corner of my building, I always try to quickly get up and get a look. Of course, before slamming the curtains shut and jumping back into bed for another hour or so of sleep.
Wearing red lipstick makes me feel strong. Every time I put it on I think of my grandma, Pansy (yes, that’s her name). As a kid, she used to let me play dress up at her house, and she’d let me use her "very expensive" makeup, especially her collection of lipstick. The woman, to this day, will not leave the house at eighty-eight years old without a layer of freshly applied lipstick. And yes, she carries it around in her purse to reapply as necessary throughout whatever adventure she’s on. She’s one of the strongest women I know, so when I wear it, I like to pretend I’m just as strong as she is, and spoiler… feeling strong does wonders to your confidence.
Walking my dog, Howie, during the two and a half months I was down in Florida at the beginning of quarantine was my favorite daily activity. I’d finish the workday, or take an hour break (read: advertising is crazy) to workout and then take Howie on a two-mile walk to the beginning of my parent’s neighborhood. We’d both be exhausted afterward. Me from the workout and the walk, and him from the walk because Howie is an old boy. But the joy it brought my dog every time I’d put on my tennis shoes at the end of the day was worth every muscle ache.
And I could list on and on the little things I love...
Seeing a dozen stars in the sky when I’m just far enough away from the city.
The chills a new song brings me when I get through the first fifteen seconds and immediately recognize that it’ll be played on repeat for the next few days or weeks.
Hugging someone I haven’t seen in a long time.
Cool air when there is fresh snow on the ground.
The energy behind a deadline that I’ve just barely made.
Freshly fallen orange, red, and yellow leaves in the middle of fall.
A hot, stringy piece of pizza from a dollar slice.
Snuggling up on my couch with an incredibly soft blanket and good company.
A random painting that has the exact shade of turquoise that is identical to my favorite.
Walking in the light rain with an umbrella.
Postcards and sending them to the people I admire.
Writing things down that are meaningful to me.
The number thirteen.
And the list doesn’t stop there. The fact is, there are TOO many little things in the world that you and I love. And the best part is, the majority of them are all unique to each of us.
We all have those little things we enjoy, and all those little things fill us up. They make us feel whole, alive, warm, and even full.
These “things” are momentary sparks of pure significance that define what makes us, us. They inspire us to, literally, live.
Something my dad has always said is, “drive less, ride more.” And this has stuck with me throughout my entire life. It’s not just about the accomplishments we make, or the end goal. It’s more about the process and enjoying the peaks and valleys. The great, good, bad, and ugly.
It’s all those little, itty-bitty things…
Watching Soul tonight reminded me of that. So, get off this website and go watch the movie, okay? (Kidding, slightly…)
But what I’d really love for you to do, if you’re not doing it already, is take a step back and think about the thing you appreciate at this moment. Is it the solitude of your bedroom? Is it your current hairstyle? Is it the people you’re surrounded by? Is it the coffee you’re drinking or the way the sun is peeking through the curtains? Is it the painting that’s hanging in your living room that you can see out of the corner of your eye? Could it be the song that just came on your Spotify playlist?
Whatever it may be, hold on to those little things you adore.
Those little things fill your cup.
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