Noticing Where Joy Is Hiding
I’ve been told—many times—that consistency is the key to writing a newsletter. But consistency in anything good for me (sleeping early, eating more vegetables, working out, writing regularly) often slips through my fingers. Life, with its unpredictable rhythms, always seems to step in.
For me, it’s never about not wanting to write. I simply want to arrive at the page with something meaningful. Still, life has its own timing. And that truth met me again a few weeks ago, when I returned from India.
I hadn’t expected my time there to become a lesson in this.
From the moment I reached my family home in Delhi, I was swept up in repairs. The monsoon had been heavy and long this year—perhaps another sign of a warming planet. Water had seeped through ceilings and walls. Closets had to be emptied. Furniture shifted. My sister and I rolled up our sleeves and dove straight in.
My eyes stung. My back ached. Workers drifted in and out, sometimes showing up, sometimes not. After they left each night, we swept and scrubbed in masks, exhausted and unsure whether everything would be fixed before we had to leave. I made daily trips to the municipal office, hoping to get repairs sanctioned—only to hit walls of indifference.
For days, it felt like I couldn’t see beyond the dust, the pollution, the chaos. But then, even in the thick of it, small moments began to break through the heaviness:
- a laugh shared with my sister in the middle of the mess,
- a cousin rescuing us with dinner on one of our grumpiest evenings,
- our thoughtful neighbor sending lunch, which we ate gratefully on the sunniest patch of the balcony.
And somewhere in that shift, I also found a bit of strength returning. I even found the courage to march straight up to the head of the municipal office—who finally approved the work on the street outside.
Once the dust finally settled—literally and figuratively—and my sister left, I sat with my mother watching her evening serials. We laughed, we rolled our eyes, we talked about the social messages tucked into the plots. In those simple minutes—after all the upheaval—I felt something loosen inside me. Something softened.
While sitting there, I realized something important. The one thing I am consistent about is traveling the space between activity and reflection.
Because that’s where life actually teaches in its unfolding.
And that’s how I noticed joy sneaks in, often disguised as something small.
There were several moments to savor.
Joy doesn’t live in our plans.
It lives in the moment.
And when we pause to savor it—even long after it has passed—we let gratitude reshape the entire experience.
As we enter this holiday season, my hope for you is simple:
May you find something to savor in the smallest moments—especially the ones hiding inside the chaos.
And may these delightful moments become a part of your life….consistently!
Happy holidays!
With love,
Anu
