Time is universal. We all have the same 24 hours in a day. Yet how we choose to use and feel about that time varies widely. You have scheduled and unscheduled time, hours spent doing what you enjoy and what you don’t. Your days can be intentional or haphazard, filled with obligations, commitments, fun, rest, and challenges.

Lately, I’ve noticed how many moments of joy and delight are present even in these uncertain times. With so much unrest and distress around us, why am I writing about happiness? Especially when life is hard, it’s essential to acknowledge and embrace moments that fill you with delight.

The pandemic changed our daily lives. Opportunities to try new things emerged during the shift. Surprisingly, in this chaos, some beautiful moments emerged. I’ll share a few things I’ve recently experienced, hoping they will spark some ideas for you. 

5 Ways to Take Time for Delight

1. Watch Tomatoes Grow

Earlier this month, I created my first mini garden in our greenhouse. One of the vegetables I planted were cherry tomatoes. Each day I check to see how they’re doing. I water or mist them as needed. Little yellow flowers started blooming, which are magically becoming tomatoes-to-be. Right now, they are round, green balls that will hopefully turn bright red. It’s a simple thing, but it makes me smile with delight every time I check on their growth. It feels good to nurture them and watch the changes.

2. Cut Hair with Scissors

You’re probably thinking, how else would you cut hair? Of course, you use scissors (or a clipper!) The thing is I’ve never cut hair other than the disastrous time I cut my mother’s hair when I was 10 years old. My husband hasn’t been able to get his hair cut during the pandemic, so I offered to “try.” I was amazed that Steve trusted me to cut, especially since he knew about the mom incident. While I don’t plan on opening a salon, it turns out I’m not half bad at cutting hair. The great discovery is that I love doing it!  I feel giddy when I cut. It’s so satisfying to snip away, kind of like hair decluttering. I’ve learned one lesson. Don’t say, “Oops,” if you chop off more than you meant to.

“Especially when life is hard, it’s essential to acknowledge and embrace moments that fill you with delight.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®

3. Walk Socially Distant with Friend

It wasn’t that long ago we could walk where we wanted, with whoever we wanted, as closely as we wanted, and mask-free. But times have changed. The only walks I’ve taken in these past months have been by myself or with my husband. Since New York recently loosened the stay-in-place orders, I felt comfortable trying a socially distant (and masked) walk with one of my friends. While we have had regular Zoom calls during this time, we haven’t seen each other in person. It felt beyond fantastic to be physically close to my good friend as we walked, talked, and looked at one another. And while it was a bit weird not to be able to hug, it was so joyful to be actually rather than virtually together. 

4. Sit in Different Chairs

I’ve found ways to experiment with new perspectives with so much time at home these past months. It’s not that I was bored, but I felt like shifting things around to see what would happen. We added a few new chairs to our outdoor collection, so we moved furniture around to integrate the pieces. We placed chairs where they had never been before, which encouraged us to sit in new locations. The change was surprising because the new placements had different views and feel. Now when I go outside, instead of sitting in the exact same spot, I like to move around to try out other positions. Oddly, these simple changes make me feel similar to being on vacation because they both bring about perspective shifts. 

5. Take the Less Traveled Path

I love walking in the woods and by the rivers. There are regular and favorite walks I take, like down the block or the path along the Hudson River. But there are other places I walk less frequently like a park several towns south of where I live. Over the weekend, my husband and I decided to go to the park we rarely visit. There were many changes from the last time we went there. I loved noticing and appreciating the differences. Our prior visit was in early spring when the daffodils were blooming, and the leaves on the trees were starting to green. This time, yellow flowers were gone, and the trees were so full that some of the trunks were hidden. There were birds and butterflies all around. I loved exploring the less familiar path with spectacular river views.

Time keeps moving, whether we’re having good days or tough ones. There are ways to make time for joy-filled moments. I’d love to hear your thoughts. What moments delight you? I invite you to join the conversation.

There is laundry to wash, meals to make, people to check in on, and bills to pay. You have papers to sort, closets to organize, and schedules to coordinate. Your time is filled with the doings of daily life and so much more. You work, walk, run, and show up to support injustices. You reflect, create, converse, sleep, and reset. 

For this brief moment in time, my purpose is clear. Instead of doing or preparing for the next thing, I choose to be still instead of rushing ahead to another moment. In the quiet cocoon of my dark green hammock, stretched out between two 100-foot trees, I gently rock. 

The white clouds navigate decisively across the light blue sky. The gentle breeze shakes the leaves on the trees, which makes a swishing, rustling sound. The spring air is delightfully warm, and not too hot. The sunlight dances as it shows off the varied green hues in the woods. My breathing slows as I take in the deep earthy aroma of the forest.

At this moment in time, as the leaves rustle and birds sing, I sway side to side. The hammock’s movement encourages stillness within – just sense and notice. There will be time for doing and activating. But right here, right now, I am still. I slowly breathe in and exhale out.

“There will be time for doing and activating. But right here, right now, I am still.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®

The landscape is wrapped in that sleepy, afternoon light. A rustle. A chirp. Clouds float across the sky. Feeling inadequate, knowing that I alone cannot heal this world filled with so much unrest, pain, anger, and sadness, I choose this one moment to just be. My pause is not forever. From this place of calm, I can reenergize. Learning, questioning, helping, and doing will come, but for this moment in time, I am still. 

What does quiet look like for you? Is it something that you need? Can you remember a time when your nervous system was calm? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.

The world took one significant pause these past months with quarantines and stay-in-place orders. Each day we lived with a continually changing landscape, uncertainty, and stress. Some of us became ill, lost loved ones, or jobs. Some of us retreated and hoped that things would return to normal soon. Some of us did our best to keep it together because others relied on us to teach, lead, or comfort. We lost track of time and found it hard to remember which day it was. 

There have been inspired ways we’ve chosen to use our time, even with the hardships we’ve faced and difficulties we are still navigating. Because all of a sudden, we had time to spend in ways that we never expected. While there were the binge-watching-chocolate eating-no-showering days, we also crawled out from the covers to experiment. We created music, baked bread, knitted, made masks, gardened, wrote, invented, and delivered groceries to those in need. We Zoomed with loved ones near and far. We slowed down. From this pause and interruption, some of us found time to reflect and create. Some positive and unexpected outcomes emerged.

In recent posts, I’ve written about some of my calming and creative outlets like mindfulness meditation, yoga, walking, baking, writing, and photographing.  Something else surfaced for me during this time. Many of my friends are gardeners. I’ve always admired their ability to plant, nurture, and make things grow. I have vivid and happy memories of the few times in my life when I picked fresh fruit and vegetables. Yet in all these years, I convinced myself that I couldn’t grow stuff qualified by a host of good excuses. So, aside from one failed attempt at planting tomatoes over three decades ago, I never tried. How sad is that?

“This time of the pandemic has been fascinating because experimentation feels less scary.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®

This time of the pandemic has been fascinating because experimentation feels less scary. There is a feeling of “Why not?” or “Things are already so strange. What do I have to lose?” I noticed that my thoughts about gardening kept surfacing. My internal musings became impossible to ignore. So I began discussing with friends that I was thinking about making an edible garden. They were so encouraging and had many great ideas.

Now here’s where things got tricky. While I was thinking about all of the delicious vegetables I could plant, I started feeling overwhelmed. I wasn’t sure if it would work, if it would be too hard, or if I’d enjoy the work. I thought about the advice I share with overwhelmed clients when their organizing goals feel too big. Start small and build from there.

“I thought about the advice I share with overwhelmed clients when their organizing goals feel too big. Start small and build from there.”

— Linda Samuels, CPO-CD®

I took my own advice and decided to begin with a few herbs (and one tomato plant) to grow in our greenhouse. How hard could that be? It turns out that it wasn’t difficult at all. Not only that, but I loved digging in the dirt, arranging the plants, smelling their fresh scents, and watering them. I’m excited about my tiny, doable, not overwhelming garden. It might be a stretch to call it a garden, but I’m going to anyway.

I recognize that to some, especially the seasoned gardeners might think my story sounds ridiculous. Perhaps you’re thinking, “What’s the big deal? She just planted some herbs in a pot.” I get it. But to me, it represents getting over myself and being open to something that, for years, I convinced myself I couldn't do. I figured out how to create a garden on my terms. Perhaps it will stay small. Maybe the plants will die. However, this also might be the start of a new passion. Time will tell.

With so much destruction and strife in the world right now, it feels good to focus on growing and creating. Has the pandemic inspired you to use your time differently? Have you been experimenting more? I’d love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to join the conversation.

Positive anticipation is a beautiful thing. When we look forward to doing things that bring us joy, we increase our happiness quotient. When we spend time engaging in favorite activities and being around people that we love, it energizes and rejuvenates us. Every summer for the past eight years, I’ve gone on a beach getaway with three of my girlfriends. It’s something I look forward to all year long. I just returned from this wonderful time away and can still feel the warmth from not only the sun but also from hanging out with my friends.

It’s a low-keyed weekend. We spend as much time as possible at the beach reading, talking, sunbathing, and jumping the ocean waves. This year perhaps more than any other, I noticed how I allowed myself just to be. While I brought a book and my journal, I spent less time reading and writing than I usually do. Instead, I felt content to sit in my beach chair, feet wiggling in the sand, sun warming my body, listening to the sounds around me, taking in the ocean scents, and getting up every so often to immerse myself in the sea.

I needed to be. No agenda. I needed time without the pressure to do and accomplish. I needed the time to reflect, relax, and renew. All thoughts of future plans, to-dos, and lists were suspended for those few days. Time felt slower and luxurious.

How do you like to pause and spend your break time? What renews you? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Join the conversation!