Our lives are what we pay attention to.
That’s one of the central ideas behind How to Break Up With Your Phone, The Power of Fun, and this newsletter.
It’s also why I’ve fallen in love with a ritual from the poet Ross Gay: the practice of noticing and sharing delights.
I’ve written about delight practices before, but as we transition into August—and as the world feels, in many ways, like it is literally on fire—I wanted to offer this one to you again. It’s a simple, practical example of how changing what we notice can help us cope when life feels hard.
It’s pretty much what it sounds like: the practice of noticing—and sharing—things that delight you. Your delights might be moments of beauty, things that make you laugh, or experiences that leave you feeling more connected or just a little bit more alive. Nothing is too small.
For example, here are some of the delights Ross Gay writes about in his wonderful essay collection, The Book of Delights: Pecans. Strong espressos. Cuttings from a fig tree. Pretty much anyone who calls him “sweetie.” People’s reactions when he carries a tomato plant onto a plane. A young TSA worker at the airport who mishears Gay say the word “poems” and announces to a coworker, “That guy’s being flown to Syracuse to read palms!”
To be clear, Gay’s book is not an exercise in forced positivity. Many of the essays touch upon decidedly undelightful things, such as racism, mortality, and the loss of loved ones. And yet according to Gay, the more he focused on noticing delight, the more he found himself surrounded by it.
As he writes,
“It didn’t take me long to learn that the discipline or practice of writing these essays occasioned a kind of delight radar. Or maybe it was more like the development of a delight muscle. Something that implies that the more you study delight, the more delight there is to study. . . . [As I continued the project], I felt my life to be more full of delight. Not without sorrow or fear or pain or loss. But more full of delight.” —Ross Gay, The Book of Delights
Ross Gay reading his essay about the delight of bringing a baby tomato plant onto a plane. I dare you to watch this and NOT be delighted.
It would be easy to write off delight practices as frivolous. But our brains are naturally primed to notice things that feel scary or threatening, because they’re trying to protect us from danger. If you encountered a beautiful flower with a large spider sitting on it, for example, you’d probably remember the spider more vividly than the flower.
That’s why I believe it’s essential—both for our own mental health and for the health of society—to consciously train our brains to notice beauty, joy, fun, and, yes, delight: the everyday kindnesses and amusing absurdities, the things that make us laugh or fill us with gratitude.
Getting in the habit of noticing these things doesn’t mean ignoring what is frightening or painful. Instead, it can help lower our anxiety and make us feel happier and more connected, both to our own lives and to other people.
And the benefits extend beyond how we feel in the moment. The more positive emotions we experience, the more energy and resilience we have to face difficult problems and cope with the harder parts of life.
It’s quite simple. When you notice something that sparks delight, no matter how small, raise a finger in the air—and announce, out loud and enthusiastically, “Delight!” (The out loud part is important, even if you are alone.)
You may soon discover that Gay was right: the more attention you pay to the delights in your life, the more delights will reveal themselves to you.
Hopefully, it makes intuitive sense that focusing on the positive would boost your mood. But if you’re skeptical that such a small practice could make a difference, try spending an hour doing a twisted version of the exercise.
Instead of noticing and labeling delight, respond to every negative thought and stressful cue by pointing a finger in the air and announcing, “Anxiety!” Or, depending on the context, “Fear!” or “Cause for despair!”
Then switch back to labeling your delights and notice how different it feels.
“I also learned this year that my delight grows—much like love and joy—when I share it.” —Ross Gay, The Book of Delights
The practice of noticing and labeling delights is even more effective (and fun) if you do it with other people. So invite a friend, or family member, or even your kid to join you. (I’ve had delight practice with my own daughter since she was about five and it is, well, delightful.)
Or, if you have friends you don’t regularly see in person, consider starting a delight text chain in which you share photos and anecdotes of things that delight you—an excellent use of technology!
Let’s Share Some Delights!
I’ve created a group delight chat for Life Lab members), where we can share the small, beautiful, funny, and absurd things that catch our attention. I’m resuscitating my own delight practice and will be posting there regularly, too.
Life Lab is the paid tier of this Substack, where I share additional practices and resources designed to help you feel more present, connected, and alive. Come join us—and bring your delights!
Some of my recent delights on a recent trip to Portugal. Apparently I’m a sucker for tile work and ferns.
So if you’re feeling down today, or anxious, or just plain hot, I encourage you to look around your environment right now and try to find one thing that might qualify as a delight. When you find one, stick your index finger into the air, even it makes you feel dumb. Say “delight!” out loud, even if quietly. Notice if doing this has any impact on your mood. And if someone asks you what the heck you are doing, tell them about this practice and invite them to join you.
To scrolling less, living more, and seeking out (and sharing) our delights,
PS: If you need further convincing that noticing delight is not a frivolous practice, keep reading. . . .
The Life Lab is the paid tier of my Substack, where I share bonus content and evidence-backed practices and experiments for you to try yourself.
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