Hey, stranger.

A few years ago, I read the book “Tiny Beautiful Things” by Cheryl Strayed. It actually served as a huge inspiration for my blog. If you haven’t read it, it’s a collection of advice columns that Strayed wrote for her blog — they’re heartwarming, funny, thought-provoking, but most of all incredibly wise. Strayed is a genius.

The writing itself stuck with me, of course, enough to serve as a muse, but the title would always play in my mind whenever I saw something that was relatively trivial but still brought me happiness. Thus, I formed my very own little collection of tiny beautiful things.

On my walk home this afternoon, I made my daily pit stop at a house with a beautiful black indoor/outdoor cat, who I’ve grown to form a friendship with. Today, he still came up to me to say hi and let me pet him even though he got wet in the rain. That cat, for instance, is one of my tiny beautiful things.

I always look forward to seeing him. I think of him every time I reach that block, wondering if he’ll be out that day. This caused my mind to wander into realizing all of the other tiny beautiful things — aspects I’ve incorporated into my routine or just small moments of my day — that bring me some sense of joy, no matter how minor.

I love living in a city because I love seeing pigeons. I don’t know why. I think the little bluish-purple iridescent patch on the backs of their necks is so cool because it’s the color of an oil puddle. Some people see them as nuisances, but I never understood that. Side note — the story of how they became domesticated is also so interesting.

I love curating playlists and choosing what songs I want to listen to during my walk to campus and back home. I especially love walking and listening to music while it’s raining. Growing up, my brother always used to take aimless walks whenever it poured. My mom called him crazy, but I understood. There is something so peaceful about it. It instantly clears my head, and there is nothing I love more than the smell of rain. 

I have inadvertently begun a collection of lost lighters. I found a translucent purple one, and then the next day, I found a black one at the laundromat. Now, my friends have started giving me random lighters that they’ve found. Every time I light a candle, there’s a memory attached to it. I use a different one whenever I can.

Everyone has their own tiny beautiful things, and that in and of itself is a tiny beautiful thing.

A close friend of mine attends a different university, and she texts me every time her favorite spot in the library is free. It’s right in a corner so she can people-watch — something we always do when we’re together — and has a comfortable chair. There is also a big window, and she would tell me how she would pick the perfect time to study so that the sun would be shining at the right angle and pouring in warmth.

Another good friend of mine sees getting a coffee in the morning as her tiny beautiful thing. Someone else I know finds that curling up with her pillow and blanket on her living room sofa once she’s finished with her work for the day is the best way to end it. My other friend’s tiny beautiful thing is when we all hang out together on a night when we’re all finally free, where we can simply sit on the couch and have dinner and catch up.

These things seem insignificant. Sometimes we don’t even notice them, or we don’t even notice how much joy they can actually bring us. But where would we be without our tiny beautiful things?

I hope you got to not only experience but bask in your tiny beautiful thing today, no matter how small.