A Gentle Return to Lightness

Making room for the little things that make our everyday lives feel good.

There’s a point every year when I begin to notice the light.

Not spring exactly.

Here in the Okanagan, March can still have one foot firmly planted in winter. There can be snow on the hills, chilly mornings and days when you’re quite happy to stay tucked inside.

But something is changing.

The evenings stretch a little longer.

The light across the lake looks different.

Every now and then, there’s a warmth in the sun that makes you stop for a moment and think:

It’s coming.

And I love that.

We Don’t Always Need a Fresh Start

January gets a lot of attention for new beginnings.

New goals. New habits. New versions of ourselves.

But by March, I’m usually much more interested in something gentler.

Not starting over.

Simply noticing what I’d like a little more of.

More time outside.

More mornings when I slow down long enough to enjoy my coffee.

More walks without a destination.

More flowers once they begin appearing.

More time doing things simply because I enjoy them.

Maybe that’s one of the things I’ve come to appreciate as I’ve gotten older.

Life doesn’t always need a dramatic reinvention.

Sometimes it just needs a little more room.

And perhaps that is another part of becoming more of ourselves — not constantly trying to change who we are, but learning to notice what makes our lives feel good.

What Feels Good to Welcome Back In?

I love this question because it doesn’t ask us what’s wrong.

It doesn’t ask what we need to improve.

It simply asks:

What have I been missing?

Maybe it’s being outside.

Maybe it’s seeing friends more often.

Maybe it’s picking up a book instead of picking up your phone.

Maybe it’s working with your hands.

Maybe it’s putting music on while you make dinner.

Maybe it’s wearing something you love even when absolutely nothing special is happening.

The answers don’t need to be profound.

In fact, I think the smallest ones are often the best.

Because Today Matters Too

I think many of us grew up with the idea that certain things should be saved.

The good dishes.

The nice clothes.

The beautiful jewelry.

For some future occasion worthy enough to use them.

I’ve become much less interested in saving beautiful things.

I want to enjoy them.

Not because every day needs to be extraordinary.

Quite the opposite.

Sometimes it’s simply putting on earrings you love before going for coffee.

Lighting the candle on a Tuesday.

Using the good mug.

Buying the flowers.

We don’t always need to wait for a special occasion to celebrate ourselves.

Sometimes an ordinary day is reason enough.

Lightness Can Be Very Small

When we talk about wanting more ease in our lives, it can sound as though we need to make enormous changes.

I don’t think we do.

Lightness can be five quiet minutes with your coffee before the day begins.

Opening the door and feeling that first hint of warmer air.

Laughing at something ridiculous.

Going for a drive just because the sun is shining.

Marley deciding that wherever you’re going, she’s obviously coming too.

A favourite pair of boots.

Dinner with someone you love.

Standing outside at the end of the day and noticing that somehow...

it’s still light.

These are small things.

But increasingly, I think they’re the things that make a life feel like ours.

Maybe that’s connected to another question I’ve asked myself over the years: what is enough?

Because knowing what we want more of also helps us recognize what we might need a little less of.

Maybe We Don’t Have to Chase Lightness

Perhaps we simply have to notice when it appears.

That’s what March feels like to me.

Not quite winter.

Not quite spring.

Just that lovely little space between the two when the world begins reminding us that nothing stays still forever.

The days get longer.

The lake changes.

The first signs of spring eventually appear.

And without really trying, we begin moving outward again.

Maybe there’s something we can learn from that.

We don’t always have to push ourselves toward the next version of our lives.

Sometimes we can simply open the door a little wider and let some light back in.