Living between art and multiple sclerosis
We often think of meaningful change as something big.
A decision. A new beginning. A different direction.
But not every meaningful moment announces itself that way.
Sometimes, it is much smaller. A quiet cup of coffee before the day begins. A few minutes with a journal. A favorite song. Standing outside and noticing the light. Picking up a paintbrush without knowing what you want to say.
These moments may seem ordinary.
And yet, sometimes, they give us something we didn’t realize we needed:
a little space to be ourselves.
The moments we almost overlook
Our days can become filled with things that need our attention. Messages. Responsibilities. Plans. People who need us.
There is always something waiting to be done.
And because of that, the moments that belong only to us can become easy to overlook. Not because they aren’t important. But because they don’t always look important.
A few quiet minutes may not seem like much. Similarly, writing a page, making tea, siting in the garden or walking without a destination.
But sometimes, those small moments create a pause between everything we have to do and the person experiencing it all.
And in that pause, we may notice ourselves again.
When a moment becomes yours
However, the difference isn’t really in what we do. Maybe it’s in how we enter the moment.
Drinking coffee out of thirst differs from sitting with a cup of coffee because, for a few minutes, we aren’t asking anything else of ourselves.
There is a difference between writing because we have something to accomplish and writing because we want to hear what is happening inside us.
There is a difference between creating something because we need a finished piece and creating simply because our hands want to make something.
The activity may be the same.
The experience can be completely different.
And perhaps that’s what makes a small ritual meaningful. The ritual need not be elaborate. Doing it daily may not be necessary. It doesn’t even have to make sense to anyone else.
It simply has to create a little space where you can slow down enough to notice that you are there.
A small return
I think this is one of the things that draws me to creativity.
When I’m painting, there are moments when the outside world seems to become quieter. Not because it has disappeared. But because, for a while, my attention is somewhere else.
In a color. A texture. Maybe, a line or a layer.
Sometimes I know exactly what I’m doing. Yet, other times, I don’t.
Nevertheless, that’s okay.
The act of creating gives me somewhere to place my attention. It gives me a reason to slow down.
And sometimes, that is enough to help me hear myself again.
Perhaps your small ritual does something similar.
Perhaps it happens with a cup in your hands, or with a pen. Likewise, a book can take you somewhere else. A garden. Your favorite chair. Or a song.
Maybe it happens while you’re doing something that no one else would think twice about.
It doesn’t have to look meaningful to be meaningful.
You don’t need to make it bigger
There is a temptation to turn the things that help us into projects. If something makes us feel good, we want to make it a habit. If it becomes a habit, we want a routine. And before long, something that was meant to give us space becomes another thing we feel we have to do.
But maybe some moments are allowed to remain small. A few minutes. A familiar ritual. Something you return to when you need it.
There is no need to make it more complicated than that. Because the value may not be in how much time the moment takes. It may be in how fully you are there while it happens.
What small moment is yours?
Maybe you already have one. Maybe you had one once and somehow lost touch with it. Or maybe you’re still discovering what helps you slow down.
There is no right answer. It doesn’t have to be creative. It doesn’t have to be productive. It doesn’t have to cost anything.
It simply has to feel like a small space where you can breathe, notice, and be present.
And perhaps the question isn’t:
What should I add to my life?
Maybe it’s something simpler:
What is already here that helps me return to myself?
A small invitation
This week, instead of asking yourself what you need to change, try sitting with that question for a little while:
What small moment helps me feel present?
Notice what comes to mind.
Maybe it’s something you already do. or something you’ve been missing. Perhaps, it’s something so ordinary that you’ve never thought of it as meaningful.
You don’t have to turn it into a routine or do it perfectly.
Just give it a little attention.
Because sometimes, taking care of ourselves doesn’t begin with doing more.
Sometimes, it begins with being fully present for a little of what is already here.
If you want to keep exploring
If this question opens something for you, I’ve created the Blooming Through Change Toolkit as a space to slow down, reflect, and spend a little time listening to yourself.
It isn’t about finding the right answers.
It’s simply an invitation to pause, make some room, and have a conversation with yourself about what may be asking for your attention.
And if you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear your answer, too:
