It’s all in the little things. It always has been and always will be.
It’s in your quiet little smile and wide open pupils of your eyes. It’s in the soft connect of your hand on my arm and the tilt of your head. It’s in the softer, warmer tones of a hushed voice and the playful lilt at the end of the phrase. It’s in the words you choose to say and the judgements you choose to stave off.
It’s in the stronger, more forceful clapping of consensus and the silence of dissension. It’s in the murmuring along with a morning breeze and a resorting to body language in chaotic ambient sound. It’s in the suppressed giggle and a repressed snort. It’s in the cast aside eyes or the straight on gaze.
You are not made of your grand gestures and pronouncements, your moments in the spotlight or your prolific speeches in front of the mirror. You are the sum of the little things from your good days to your bad: the moments of intimacy, compassion and passion; the windows of fleeting joy and the basking in the emotion of your choice. You are that off-the-cuff remark at a complete stranger and the moment of intimacy with a friend. You are the shutting down or opening up of a moment.
I used to judge myself against the measurement of massive action. But now I do the exact opposite. Everyone says that when we lose someone, it’s the little things we miss the most. The bits that define you as the unique you. So to ensure I’m never lost, I look to the little things that make up my own life. And the ironic thing is, by doing so, I am ever more empowered to build that momentum into massive action anyway.