got delight?

“The capacity of delight is the gift of paying attention.” 
Julia Cameron, The Artist Way

During these times, delight can seem hard to come by. Yet, perhaps it is exactly in times such as these we need to be open to the possibility. The good news is that delight can be discovered almost anywhere if we are wearing the right eyes. You might be the only one to see it. 
 
The Book of Delights, by Ross Gay, is a collection of essays from a year-long daily practice of writing about delight. I love this book because it describes delight rather than defining it. Defining some words is like using a butterfly net to catch a sunrise. Delight is one of those words, it needs be lived and witnessed not captured.​

Before shelter in place, a friend took me out for ice cream for my birthday. We shared an obscenely decadent and delicious ice cream sundae with three different ice creams, hot fudge, caramel, bananas, strawberries, almonds and whipped cream. We moaned with every bite, each one a new creation. Next to us, a table of three hovered over their ice cream. However, as they ate, they ignored their ice cream and instead with that glazed-over screen stare, edited and shared photos of their ice cream on their smart phones. I’m not sure what they were eating, but I think delight is supposed dance on your tongue and then melt.
 
Delight belongs to another world and yet it invites us to dive in. It’s unexpected, yet it is a kind of remembering. It holds a thing longed for without the conscious understanding that it was missing. But when we see it, our heart says, “Oh, yes, there you are!” Delight is precious precisely because it’s only a glimpse. It’s so easy to miss. It appears to eyes that are looking but not looking, like the visitation of a sunrise. It helps to be easily surprised, which is say, life lived with attentive but soft eyes. As a kid every Sunday I heard my dad proclaim with his booming preacher’s voice, “This is the day that the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalms 118:24. It was a good reminder of the gift of a new day, but sounded more like a commandment than an invitation. My heart is more likely to rejoice and be gladdened by a sunrise with a softer touch. I like Maya Angelou’s delight salutation, “This is a wonderful day. I have never seen this one before.”
 
Pre-COVID19, mom’s nursing home, the Plum City Care Center, had a Happy Hour every Friday. A local band would perform oldies. There would be snacks, and beer, wine and pop (for those who need a regional translation of that fizzy beverage—soda, soda pop, coke, cola) in Dixie cups. The music made toes that lived in feet that no longer walked, tap. The lyrics and melodies, stored in muscle memory, made lips move and heads bob. They moved, smiled, and nodded not simply because they enjoyed the music, I think delight was dancing and melting in their bodies.

And then COVID19 happened. Plum City Care Center has been amazing in their decisive and early response. They closed their doors to visitors, changed all the ways they gathered in groups, and instituted labor-intensive safety protocols. Over these last four months, they have persevered through all the challenges, uncertainty, and extra work. Deep bow of gratitude to all the staff at the Plum City Care Center for their conscientious and compassionate care of mom and all the residents under their care. You are heroes and your daily acts of kindness, often without notice or appreciation, are making the unbearable bearable. Thank you. Thank you.
 
So, Happy Hour, Friday’s afternoon delight, in its pre-COVID19 form is gone. Yet, the staff at the Plum City Care Center have dug deep into their imaginations and have found a quarantined version of Happy Hour. Every Friday they do a themed party that travels to each room. They bring costumes, music and snacks. It looks like imaginative play or Halloween or just silly fun. I am amazed how the seniors respond. These Midwestern men and women of sturdy stock let appearances and self-consciousness float away, and they find something younger and unencumbered. They smile and play. It’s infectious—the good kind. 

I was showing these pictures of mom to Susi Stadler, Founder and Executive Director of At Home With Growing Older, a nonprofit dedicated to re-envisioning and improving the experiences of later life, and her response was immediate, “Oh, this nursing home understands delight.” I smiled as I recognized it too. During this time, especially during this time, I think our heart longs to be moved by the mysteries of delight. It shouldn’t be an extra, after all the other things on the to-do list are done. It is essence and elementary and provides wings when we feel grounded. I’m going to keep my eyes open for happy hour. Yes to hearts that are still beating and still can be moved by living.