I’m a pretty boring person. At least on the surface.
I’m a homebody. I genuinely love being at home. I love being in the mountains for the same reason - the quiet and calm of a simple life soothe me in a way nothing else can.
Somewhere along the line, the life I used to think looked small, started feeling incredibly rich.
I began to see all the good things I was missing in the hustle and bustle of family life and a demanding profession. As a nurse, wife and mom, so much of my attention was focused on the next task, the next responsibility, the next thing that needed to get done.
I recently rediscovered a book on my shelf I’ve had since high school.
Back when I spent all my money on books and CDs, I found an absolute GEM called 14,000 Things to be Happy About. Curious, I sat down and flipped through the pages, looking at all the things I highlighted as a teenager.
What surprised me wasn’t how much had changed.
It was how much hadn’t.
Most of the things that made me happy then still make me happy today.
Sunrises.
Books.
Quiet mornings.
Freshly cut grass.
Birds outside my window.
A cozy place to curl up with a book.
Even teenage Kaci seemed to understand something that took me decades to fully appreciate - happiness is often hidden in the small things.
That got me thinking about attention.
Not productivity.
Not achievement.
Attention.
What would happen if I spent more time noticing the things that already make life good.
Routines That Quietly Anchor Me
Morning coffee before everyone gets up.
Most mornings, I have my coffee with a book in the morning before the house becomes busy and I have places to be.
This tiny habit grounds my day. When the weather is nice, I often sit outside and listen to the birds while the neighborhood slowly wakes up.
Walking after dinner.
When I’m not working, I almost always take a walk.
It’s another gift from the pandemic years that somehow stuck.
Most often, my husband comes with me, and we walk past horses, beautiful trees, sunset views and a gaggle of ducks in the brook down the street.
Sunset gardening.
I love being outside when the sun is low in the sky.
Sometimes I deadhead flowers. Sometimes I pull a few weeds. Sometimes I simply walk through the garden with a glass of wine or a Fresca and admire what’s growing.
Sunrise drives to work.
Even the long commute can become a gorgeous routine, when it involves a sunrise and a good audio book. I’m lucky to be driving straight east in the morning and some days the sky puts on a show that feels like it’s just for me.
The Wellness Lesson I Didn’t Expect
I spent years thinking wellness had to be dramatic.
It had to be extreme.
It had to be perfect.
I thought happiness would arrive when I finally became a better version of myself.
So I chased improvement.
I tried all the things I thought would make me healthier, happier, more productive, more successful.
But eventually I realized something surprising.
The things that improved my life the most, weren’t dramatic at all.
They were the routines.
The daily rhythms that made life feel calmer, easier and more enjoyable.
I know that isn’t very exciting.
But it’s true.
Life is speeding up now with two teenagers in the house, yet I’ve been intentionally trying to slow it down (or at least slow my brain down!) and appreciate the season I’m in before it passes.
Michelle Obama once said that much of life is ordinary and we have to learn to be happy there too.
I think she’s right.
These routines are almost invisible to the people around me at times, but their quiet consistency has brought me far more peace than the intensity I chased in my 20s.
Most of life isn’t built in big breakthrough moments you see on Instagram. It’s built in the ordinary routines we come back to time and time again.
If you spend enough time online, it’s easy to get caught up in feeling like every hike should be a summit photo from Mt. Rainier or every home should look like a Pinterest Board.
Real life isn’t like that.
As I get closer to the season when my children will leave home, I’m becoming aware of how quickly the phases of life pass.
Not long ago, I felt constantly overstimulated and desperately craved solitude.
Now I notice quiet pockets of time returning to my life.
And when they do, I find myself drawn to remarkably simple things.
A hike.
A garden.
A hammock.
A good book.
And maybe that’s why I love hiking so much.
The trail doesn’t care how much I have to do when I get home.
It doesn’t care about my to do list, my responsibilities, or the emails waiting for me.
The trail is the same no matter what.
In a strange way, the trail reduces life back down to the basics.
Lately, I’ve been wondering if joy isn’t hiding in grand achievements at all.
Maybe it’s hiding in the slow repetition of ordinary routines.
The things we do every day.
The moments we almost overlook.
The life that’s already in front of us.
I used to think ordinary meant unremarkable.
Now I think it might be the whole point.