Making a Case for Delight

Written by: Becky Riley Olin, LCPC

Inspired by Ross Gay’s The Book of Delights, here is a brief call for cultivating and accessing delight in our daily lives. Even amidst heartbreak, despair, pain, and loss lies opportunities for delight. Delight is not found it is chosen. It is a muscle that is developed through dedicated practice and attention. May we stake out a space in our lives for delight. May we look every day for the small miracles that happen all around us. 

Cultivating delight strengthens resilience, lowers stress hormones, rebuilds perspective, orients to the present moment, fosters gratitude and appreciation, and enhances connection to the world and to each other. Delight is often accessed in the ordinary. The simple, daily experiences of being human. The feeling of sunlight, observing nature, witnessing generosity. A shared smile. The unrestrained play of children. Delight is experienced through awe and wonder. The blooming of the peonies in my backyard, pushing back on a hard winter. The quiet, everyday experiences of aliveness. The collective movement in a dance class. These small, delightful moments are precious, anchoring us to what matters. 

There is so much to celebrate in the world. It is not that we should ignore the moments that are terrible and painful, but that perhaps we need to hold the small moments of delight and joy alongside them. Mary Oliver made her case for delight in her poem, Mindful. May we train our gazes to see and to attend to what “kills us with delight.” 

Mindful by Mary Oliver

Every day

    I see or hear

       something

            that more or less

kills me 
  with delight,
      that leaves me
          like a needle

in the haystack
    of light.
        It is what I was born for—
            to look, to listen,

to lose myself
    inside this soft world—
        to instruct myself
            over and over

in joy,
  and acclamation.
      Nor am I talking
          about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
    the very extravagant—
        but of the ordinary,
            the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
    Oh, good scholar,
          I say to myself,
              how can you help

but grow wise
    with such teachings
        as these—
            the untrimmable light,

of the world,
    the ocean's shine,
        the prayers that are made
            out of grass?