When you live in a small space, each item matters. There’s no room for a pile of clutter or a piece of furniture you feel half-hearted about. Last week, my Instacart order contained an exceptionally large red onion that didn’t fit in its assigned bowl, and it took up an annoying amount of space on the counter. The kitchen is that tiny. But I like the need to be intentional and that everything can be easily maintained. Extra stuff feels overwhelming.

Along these lines, one of the guiding beliefs of Tiny Holidays is that small details are not only worthy of our attention, but they may be the best places to put our attention. There’s nothing new about being reminded to “stay present” to the tiny details of our lives. But there are two things I think are important to keep in mind.

1. Only you can give your unique attention. The tiny things you notice can only be noticed by you, with your sensibilities, in your unique way. When you take note of the things that catch your attention, you are making yourself real to yourself. You are here, you are part of things, not more but also not less important than your neighbor who keeps moving the garbage cans outside, the exuberant kid who skips down the aisle at church without a hint of self-consciousness, the two friends who link arms to help a third manage the steps at church. You belong.
   
   
2. Details, as points to put our attention, are so much less overwhelming than broader concepts like justice, spirituality, self-improvement, climate change. And the mundane details of our lives aren’t stand-ins for bigger, grander things that, were we more accomplished or less weary, we’d be able to tackle. They aren’t “all we can mange right now.” I think of them more as doorways to the larger concerns of our lives. That single perfect skim cappuccino with an extra shot in a holiday cup is a little portal to gratitude; the first ice-cold bite of air at the bus stop in the morning reminds me I am not in my parent’s home that often felt so dark and stuffy, the air weighed down with illness and grief. Time has moved on.

I’m so aware that there are times when appreciating small details is too hard; life feels too overwhelming or sad, and stopping for even a moment is scary. The poignancy feels too painful and it’s necessary to just keep pushing forward.

And what if that particular pale square of sunlight behind the palm plant in the early morning is all there is? It can be frightening to accept that degree of immediacy and finality, because even if imagining a grander life experience feels painful and out of reach, it’s something to keep our brains occupied. Focusing on the tiny, present moment is a reminder that there is no backup life in reserve.

But there’s a reason why one of the strategies for managing anxiety attacks is to bring your attention to your immediate present and what you can see, feel, hear, smell; it helps your brain tether itself to the safety of the present. And there’s a reason why, when Mary Oliver writes, “Wherever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination,” we feel profoundly welcomed, deeply included.

One of my favorite songs about the sanctity of the every day is “Holy Now,” by the unassuming but so talented Minnesota singer-songwriter Peter Mayer; maybe you’ll like it too. And this poem by Nikita Gill, an Irish-Indian poet, playwright, writer, and illustrator is a gentle gracious reminder that a small, quiet existence is still existence, is still valuable.

Everyday is not an opportunity
to improve yourself.

Some days are just there
for you to accept yourself
and look at the clouds.

This too is growth.
This too is rising.

Just existing is enough
on some days.

The flowers do it everyday
and make the world more beautiful
just by being here.

So do you.

–Nikita Gill