Doing the beautiful thing
Self-expression, a milestone, and daily things
I recently jotted down these overheard words: “Depression is the opposite of expression.”
Curious about the link, I turned to the dictionary to look up antonyms for depression. We can find “cheerfulness” as the opposite of depression, but we can also find “boom.” While typically something that follows a recession, we can also think of a boom as a deep, resonant sound or voice.
Perhaps the voice we ignore or keep quiet within ourselves.
Looking up what I overheard, I found those words can be partially attributed to the psychologist Dr. Edith Eger, who adds: “What comes out of our body doesn’t make us ill, what stays in there does.”
Perhaps expression is the opposite of depression because it is movement—it’s the flourishing that can follow languishing; it’s the boom that breaks free from a block; it’s the beautiful thing we bring forth.
While overseas a few years ago, I joined my friend’s family for Christmas. In the quiet moments before dinner, my friend’s brother showed me a beautifully handbound book. On each page, he had drawn a perfect circle to serve as frame for a miniature painting of one of his favourite movies, television shows or video games.
The circular works were intricate and enchanting, and most striking of all was that they weren’t for any other purpose besides self-expression.
Sometimes self-expression doesn’t have to be a boom—it can be a small, beautiful thing we do for ourselves. A private joy. A tiny rudder to steer our days.
We make such a fuss about how to get started, where to begin and what to do that we become stifled and stuck, when really we just need to find a way to move a little—to express whatever small beautiful thing is inside you, and not worry if it’s ever seen, or seen by few.
Shortly after seeing this, I started doing my own small, beautiful thing—capturing mundane joys, overheard wisdom, and observations from daily life.
I kept this act of self-expression private for a while, and eventually gained the confidence to share it with my paid newsletter subscribers. Just as seeing those detailed circular works permitted me to express myself, I hoped sharing my own could also have a ripple effect.
We get to decide what we do with such acts—whether it’s something we share or keep private, treat as an experiment or practice—just so long as we find a way to let the things inside of us speak in their own way.
Maybe it’s scribbles in a journal, maybe it’s detailed works of art, maybe it’s how you dress or prepare a meal.
These small acts of self-expression not only help to gently rattle the inertia but point us towards deep wells of meaning.
Work, Sometimes
by Mary Oliver
I was sad all day, and why not. There I was, books piled
on both sides of the table, paper stacked up, words
falling off my tongue.
The robins had been a long time singing, and now it
was beginning to rain.
What are we sure of? Happiness isn’t a town on a map,
or an early arrival, or a job well done, but good work
ongoing. Which is not likely to be the trifling around
with a poem.
Then it began raining hard, and the flowers in the yard
were full of lively fragrance.
You have had days like this, no doubt. And wasn’t it
wonderful, finally, to leave the room? Ah, what a
moment!
As for myself, I swung the door open. And there was
the wordless, singing world. And I ran for my life.
Below, paid subscribers can delve into my latest collection of daily observations, including reflections on:
Setting quality-based goals
Reaching a milestone of 1,000 days alcohol-free
Notes from my scroll-free week & more