The Smallest Thing
28 Days of Asking: Day 7
Saturday morning with the boys. The house ramps up with the echo of a playful banter and dogs barking outside as the sun breaks. And we are off to the races…
I’m sitting on the couch now post lunch, reflecting. We’ve made it through two meals, one soccer game, biking around the neighborhood, and continual clean-up to keep some semblance of order.
I’m noticing the pull to fill my time efficiently. To optimize the minutes and hours in between eating, playing, and clean-up. To stack activities and check boxes and arrive at Sunday night feeling like I earned something.
But that’s not what my weekend is asking from me. It’s my own itch.
Day 7: What’s the smallest way I could take care of myself today?
Not the most impactful. And not the thing that makes for a compelling blog piece. The smallest.
Maybe it’s ten minutes outside without my phone. Maybe it’s eating something that actually nourishes instead of just filling. Maybe it’s letting a conversation go longer than efficient. Maybe it’s doing absolutely nothing for a stretch and not calling it lazy.
I’ve spent years building systems. Morning routines. Training protocols. Productivity frameworks. And I’m not knocking any of it, those systems have carried me through hard seasons.
But sometimes the systems become another form of performance. Another way to prove I’m doing it right.
Today I’m trying something different. I’m asking what the smallest act of care might look like. Not the routine. Not the protocol. Just one small thing that says: I’m paying attention to what I actually need.
This is the last day of Week 1. Seven days of noticing. Body-based questions. Tension, time, energy, discomfort, wandering, selfhood, care.
If you’ve been following along (or even just reading), thank you. Next week we shift from noticing to listening. What the body knows. What we’ve been avoiding. What we’re afraid to ask.
But today, just this: What’s the smallest way you could take care of yourself? Not the grandest gesture. Not the most disciplined move. The smallest kindness you could offer yourself before the day gets away from you.
I’m going to move to the outdoor couch to enjoy some wind chimes and children playing with no technology.
What’s yours?
