Delight For Its Own Sake
It’s launch week for The Sabbath Way! I am delighted to welcome my baby into the world, and delighted to offer it to the world. Here I’ve captured it in its natural habitat. 😊
The Three Ps: A Poem, a Pondering, and a Practice
A Poem
Field Guide
By Tony Hoagland
Once, in the cool blue middle of a lake,
up to my neck in that most precious element of all,
I found a pale-gray, curled-upwards pigeon feather
floating on the tension of the water
at the very instant when a dragonfly,
like a blue-green iridescent bobby pin,
hovered over it, then lit, and rested.
That’s all.
I mention this in the same way
that I fold the corner of a page
in certain library books,
so that the next reader will know
where to look for the good parts.
from The Wonder of Small Things, ed. by James Crews
A Pondering: Delight for its Own Sake
I’ve been overwhelmed by gratitude over the past several days, anticipating the release of The Sabbath Way into the world (launch day was June 3, 2025). So many people contributed to making it what it is, and the network of support and creativity and encouragement has struck a deep chord in me as I ponder what today means in the life of this book.
I woke up with these thoughts on my heart the morning of launch day. I went for a walk along the beach to the spot where the hummingbirds—both Anna’s and Rufous—enact their morning ruckus of bathing and drinking in the stream dripping down the cliff’s edge, sipping some nectar from nearby flowers, and generally buzzing around asserting their territorial prerogatives in a language I cannot understand, but at which my heart leaps every time I hear it. Gratitude begets gratitude.
As I marveled at the hummers buzzing around me, I reflected on what draws me to spots like this. Why get up at 5am to catch the hummers in their morning sunrise routine? Why put myself in positions to experience delight and that rush of life energy that comes from feeling deeply alive? Is it for the utility of an object lesson in an article or book or social media post—or a blog post?! If I’m being truly honest, sometimes that’s probably true. But mostly it’s because those experiences of delight and life and presence and attention ground me, keep me sane, and are like dog ears on the corners of my life’s pages, reminders of where the good parts lie.
I love that image from Tony Hoagland’s poem. He, too, traverses the razor’s edge between the sheer presence of capturing the moment of delight—when the dragonfly alights on the feather at the moment he looks at it—and the utility of translating that moment into a poem, which is his work. But it’s the image of the dog ear that changes the function of the poem from something that might be construed as exploiting the moment for gain, and the honest telling of a beautiful moment in order to invite the reader to more honest engagements with our own beautiful moments.
Maybe I’m over-analyzing here, but I hear in Hoagland’s poem a grace-full invitation to wonder, delight, and presence for its own sake. Be present to what brings you delight simply because it brings you delight. Immerse yourself in the book or the coffee mug or the stir fry or the conversation or the quiet walk in the park or the rowdy evening bathing ritual with the kids simply for the joy it offers you at the “sheer miracle of life,” as Brian Doyle once described it.
This is where this poem intersects with the Sabbath. The Sabbath invites us to make room in our busy, over-stuffed, hurried and harried lives for these kinds of encounters. Shaping our lives around Sabbath practices helps cultivate in us the kind of presence that notices the dragonfly and the feather, and is really there in the moment those two things meet on the water’s surface, where the line between heaven and earth blurs.
Sabbath also reminds us we don’t have to do anything with the moment of our delight. Simply being present to it is enough. But if we want to dog ear it to share it with someone else, that’s a good idea, too.
A Sabbath Practice: An Hour-Long Tea/Coffee Meditation
I am borrowing this practice from the late, great Thich Nhat Hahn, who was a Buddhist monk, peace advocate, author, and an unceasingly joyful human being.
The gist of it is this: stop everything and spend an hour doing nothing except drinking a cup of tea (or coffee, etc.). But here’s the most important part: be fully alive and present while you do it. The invitation is to match your external stopping with an internal presence.
Feel the warmth of the water through the cup. Smell the fragrance, feel the steam tickle your nostrils. Truly taste it. Feel its warmth descend into your body. See the room or open space you are in, as if for the first time. If you're in your house, look at an area you usually overlook. If you're on the porch or at a park, look at a tree or bird or telephone wire or cloud or grassy knoll or swing set. Truly look at it. Behold it. Practice delight. Let go of your anxiety. Let go of your fear of not getting things done, or looking put together. Just be. For one hour. With your drink.
Do this as part of your weekly Sabbath practice, or do it on the day that feels like it will be your busiest, craziest day of the week. The Dalai Lama once said to his attendant: "It is going to be a very busy day today, I will not have time to meditate for my hour this morning." After seeing the look of shocked dismay on the attendant's face, he added, "I must meditate for two hours today, instead."
What might happen if you spent one-hour this week not caring about how much you produced or accomplished, but simply appreciated the warmth of a cup of tea, coffee, or broth? What gifts might you receive? What stress might you alleviate? What humanity might you restore to your own soul?
The Sabbath Way invites you into a different relationship with time, one marked less by utility, hurry, anxiety, and frustration, and more by presence, contentment, gratitude, and delight.
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