This morning at Row House, I walked into the lobby, filled my water bottle, and as I went to grab some towels, about two cups of water spilled out of the lid and onto the floor. Not ideal, but nothing I couldn’t handle.
Immediately, one older gentleman said, “doesn’t that really piss you off?”
I shrugged and replied, “I wouldn’t say it pisses me off, more like a minor annoyance.”
Before I even finished wiping, an older woman added, “your day is just off to a great start.”
I smiled and said, “If this is the worst thing that happens to me today, I’m blessed.”
Walking away, it struck me how clarifying that moment was. I’ve done a lot of work to make my mindset a friend instead of a foe. We always carry our thoughts with us, and they can either lighten our load or weigh us down. If a couple cups of spilled water feels like a catastrophe, what happens when life delivers something truly hard?
That’s why I treat the small stuff as practice. A spill is just a spill. It’s a chance to rehearse gratitude, to keep perspective, to train my thoughts to be useful. Because the way we handle the little messes shapes how we’ll handle the big storms.
On my September 23 walk, the forest announced its changes loud and clear — walnuts thudding down in a mast year, mosquitoes in last-call mode, pawpaw perfume gone, and late-blooming smartweed still holding on. These abundance signals remind me that the woods don’t whisper their shifts; they proclaim them.
Sometimes the smallest changes make the biggest difference. For me, writing down a simple to-do list snapped me out of a rut and boosted my productivity overnight.
Adult life is full of maintenance—health, budgets, routines—that can feel monotonous. But with intention, maintenance becomes ritual, bringing joy, presence, and meaning to the everyday.
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