Over the last few weeks I’ve noticed that I’m drawn to innocent things: toys, cartoons, Pixar movies – even the little lamp at the start hops its way into my weary heart.
The world is not in a good place right now and many of us are simply tired. Tired of hoping that goodness is paramount, that nations will step back from war. Tired of being disappointed when another bully wins or gets away with bad behaviour. Didn’t our mothers always tell us that life was the other way round? When did this rule change?
If my brain goes down these roads (and I try to tell it to stop) I end up picturing apocalyptic scenes with democracy lying dead in a ditch and books being burned and heavy boots stomping over people. Oh, and that’s if the earth is still even here. It’s too much right now. So I’m retreating from the news cycles (full of conditional tense and uncertainty anyway, I remind myself) and focusing instead on small things.
One of my favourite books, Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan, has been made into the most beautiful film. It’s quietly devastating. Harsh realities in a difficult world will always exist, humans can be cruel. And yet.
And yet, we are fundamentally good. The story is also a reminder that smallness is no such thing. There are moments of transcendence all around us and kindness often arrives from the most unexpected place.
My small things include but are not limited to: the feel of the wind in my hair when I’m looking for the stars, crisp winter mornings when a robin sings from the shed roof, a cat purring contentedly on my knee when the day is done.
It has meant a shift in the focus of my gaze but, little by little, the darkness is dissipating. We hold onto the things that matter, the things that will always prevail.