I have always been a fan of the audacious, the eloquent, the visionary—the extraordinary and unexpected stuff of the world. But I also have an abiding love of the routine, the ritual, and the everyday. Most of us build lives out of both what makes us comfortable and what challenges us—by what we understand and by what makes us wonder. Our tendency is to vividly remember—and to talk about—the surprises that we encounter, but be all ho-hum about the bulk of our everyday living. Last night as I got ready for bed, for some unexplicable reason, I reveled in the routine litany of bedtime tasks to do before turning off the light. I felt almost gleeful about going through the ritual formalities of preparing to simply go to sleep. Every bedtime to-do seemed almost magical. I was paying attention to the customary, and it felt anything but dull. The very sound of Suzanne brushing her teeth in the bathroom brought me an important peace. And as I pulled a clean t-shirt over my shoulders before I crawled into bed, I realized that putting on a fresh t-shirt is one of the most amazing everyday feelings a person can enjoy. It requires only the act of paying grateful attention to what you’re doing.
During the night, a bold rain began to fall. We were sleeping with the windows open, and I listened intently as the rain pelted the deck for twenty minutes, then abruptly ceased. I smelled the petrichor. I felt the change in humidity on my skin. I counted what seemed like one solitary minutes-long flash of lightning. It was all normal, regular summer stuff I could have just as easily slept through. Most of the time, I do. But I woke up for it and paid attention to it. And that has made all the difference. I can already tell that it has made all the difference in this regular day I am just now beginning. A regular day I am spending in yet another clean t-shirt, with yet another magnetized t-shirt Bow Tie o’ the Day. How fabulous is this routine?!