That slight burn in my muscle after I've worked out.
(I was tired. I did it anyway. I feel the muscles stretch and pull, and I know that tomorrow they will be stronger.)
A refreshing relief when my toddler throws a tantrum and I don't throw one back at him.
(I was angry, but I acted calm. A training in calmness. And now I am calm, and blissfully, so is he.)
The clearness and focus, the slight pause as time slowed down, because I simply left my phone out of reach.
(A compulsion resisted. Attention given elsewhere; instead of my husband or my child searching for my eye and not catching it, I caught theirs first.)
How quickly my fingers move over the piano keys, a song that yesterday I stumbled over, but today the notes have sunk into my skin.
(Perseverance in discipline ... I rebel against it ... and I love the lesson that playing the piano teaches me.)
Reflecting over a morning of activity, but also of slowness -
(I didn't want to do the laundry, but I did -)
I had a cup of coffee, even a cookie too -
(but not seven of them -)
I took a break to look my son in the eyes, to play games with him, to talk with him,
to do something that my husband asked me to,
to do something that I've been meaning to do for myself,
something for others, too ...
And it feels good, knowing that although not everything on the to-do list is done,
What should be done is done.
And what can wait, is waiting.
How easily I forget the things that are beautiful and bring me peace.
These are things that feel good (when tiredness, anxiety or depression make me think that they don't).
These are my things.