Since I was a kid, people have always told me that I took life too seriously. "Lighten up," they'd say, as if seriousness was something to overcome rather than redirect.
I'm still prone to being serious—it's hardwired into my personality—but I've gotten more intentional about where I direct that seriousness. It's not always toward work or parenting; I've learned to be serious about seeking delight.
Delight isn't a frivolous distraction from "real life." It's a powerful practice that can transform how we experience the world. As Ross Gay discovered in his year-long experiment documenting daily delights, "the more you study delight, the more delight there is to study."
This revelation resonated deeply with me. What if my tendency toward seriousness could be redirected toward the deliberate practice of noticing joy? What if my attentiveness, so often trained on problems to solve, could be equally focused on wonders to behold?
I've been wandering the streets of Toledo, Spain for the past three days with nine other clergy friends (just imagine deep-thinkers in sensible shoes). We're following the footsteps of Teresa of Avila through the cities that shaped her—Toledo, Avila, and Seville. More on this remarkable 16th-century mystic next week, I promise. But here's the thing about new places: delight ambushes you at every corner. The monastery's coffee machine dispenses perfect café con leche in tragically tiny cups. The medieval stone streets are so narrow you must flatten yourself against doorways when cars pass (a spiritual practice in spontaneous self-preservation). And don't get me started on the late-night dinners ending with manchego cheesecake and honey ice cream, followed by rain-misted walks home. There's something unexpectedly moving about connecting with Teresa of Avila across five centuries—this woman who doubted and struggled yet burned with ambition and spiritual hunger just like us. Even the visual contrasts delight: vibrant colorful tiles somehow perfectly at home against ancient Castilian stone, like old souls having animated conversations across time.
Of course, it's almost cheating to find delight while traveling—the extraordinary announces itself at every turn when we're far from home. The real challenge awaits back in familiar surroundings, where wonder doesn't arrive with quite the same fanfare. Many of us have forgotten how to notice the small delights that surround us in our everyday lives. We're caught in a transactional relationship with reality, always seeking to control our circumstances rather than receiving the unexpected gifts already present in our lives.
Here are three simple tips to rediscover delight in your daily experience:
Let Go of Control
Delight happens when we stop fighting against what is and start dancing with it. When we loosen our grip on how things "should" be, we create space for unexpected joys to emerge. The perfectly timed raindrop sliding down your window. The surprising kindness from a stranger. The way sunlight catches dust particles floating in your living room.
Try this: Next time you feel yourself trying to control a situation, take a breath and ask: "What might surprise and delight me here if I just let go a little?"
Notice What's Already Here
Delight isn't waiting for you in perfect circumstances—it's hidden in plain sight. As Maria Bowler notes, delight is about "being willing to be charmed" by what's already in front of you.
Try this: Set a playful alarm labeled "Delight Break" on your phone. When it goes off, pause and find something delightful in your immediate surroundings—something you might normally overlook.
Let Joy Change You
When we allow ourselves to be genuinely delighted, we are "unexpectedly and pleasantly transformed" by our encounters with the world. Delight isn't just something we observe—it's something that works on us, softening our edges and opening our hearts.
Try this: Start a simple "delight collection." Jot down moments that brought you joy throughout your week. No pressure, no schedule—just a gathering of good things.
Delight insists on itself—it's yearning for your attention. It's not a distraction from your "real life" but already woven throughout your days, waiting to be noticed.
What small wonder might be waiting for you to notice it today?
These shared thoughts are a joy and small wonder right now. Thank you!
Enjoy your journey.