Spit & Polish: 08 January 2012

The small things in life often give us the greatest pleasure, and should never be overlooked

ON this first Sunday of 2012, I want to ignore all the social static that buzzes around our heads like angry bees. Once again, China is asserting its power and influence, especially on the African continent.

There is the disunity within the European Union; the cut-throat tactics of the forthcoming election in the US are becoming tougher; there is the possibility of dire consequences in South Africa, if the secrecy bill becomes law; as well as bitter schisms within the ANC.

In the months ahead, those issues will buzz around our heads like a swarm of iridescent blue flies looking for the latest pile of crap, but before we start picking our way through all of that, I want to pause for a few quiet minutes to consider what I call "the little life".

I first heard the term in 1982, when I saw Ingmar Bergman's film Fanny and Alexander, a wonderful family drama, and the phrase still resonates deeply with me, because most of us have forgotten what "the little life" is like.

We all have responsibilities to undertake; deadlines to meet, schedules to keep and bank balances to maintain. The effort of doing all those things drains an enormous amount of our energy and creativity.

It's when you lose sight of companionship, loyalty and spontaneous affection that you open your life to the termites of vanity. All of this was brought on by a chance encounter in a gym with someone I had never met before, and may never see again.

As I grow older (and - alas! - larger) I spend an hour at the gym each day just to keep the circulation going and what is left of my brain working. Once, as I was preparing to leave, I met one of the trainers in the gym who was working with a young girl in her early teens. I guess that she has a form of cerebral palsy, or perhaps she had suffered some kind of head trauma. She is a little unsteady on her feet, her speech is slow but there she was, doing her exercises, and I was filled with admiration for her.

There are so many able-bodied and healthy people who witter 0n about how unfair the world is; and why nobody ever gives them a break; and why they have barely enough time to deal with the nagging issues of their busy lives.

They complain and argue and they present a powerful contrast to the situation of this girl, with her bright blue eyes, facing challenges that very few people will ever have to confront. But there she was, walking on a treadmill with a smile on her face, showing a strong spirit, and at that moment, she was by far the most impressive person in the gym.

That encounter touched me deeply. Life for that girl is going to be a lot more difficult than it will be for most of us, and that's exactly what I mean when I talk about "the little life". It's the ability to be as absolutely engaged with the small things as we are with the big things, because those small things are usually far more rewarding than the glittering prizes we work so hard to attain.

While thinking about the value of "the little life", a memory popped into my head, a fragment of a poem that I was forced memorise and recite in primary school.

The only words I could remember correctly were "we have no time to stand and stare", so I Googled it and, within seconds, there it was. The poem was written by William Henry Davies, a Welsh poet who worked in the early decades of the 20th century.

He was a drifter, a "popular" poet rather than an academic poet, more like Helen Steiner Rice than William Wordsworth. He called himself a "vagabond" and he tramped his way through the UK and the US, jotting down things he had seen. When he felt like it, he turned them into poems and they became global favourites.

I sat down to read the entire poem, which proved to be soppy and sugary to a degree approaching nausea. The only words that have any merit are in the first line: "What is this life if, full of care/ We have no time to stand and stare." It's a reminder to me to step away from the hurly-burly of our busy lives and to enjoy the small things that delight us.

Those things will not be the same for everyone. For me, the simplest of these pleasures is that every morning, my dogs greet me with a degree of affection and exuberance that never varies, not even when food is involved.

Brilliant discoveries, bestselling books, acts of great courage, amazing talent and artistic genius are wonderful things, but when fanfare surrounding them dies down, it's "the little life" that nurtures your spirit and supports your life. It's the small actions, the kind words and the spontaneous energy of people that gives you the stamina to keep going.

There endeth the sermon, and let's hope it helps us to deal with 2012.