The world is currently small but mighty.
The 900 square foot stacked townhouse that I share with Gavin and our two dogs, Miggy (Miigwetch) and Barley, is small but mighty.
The kitchen, that provides me with focus, joy, an abundance of senses, is small but mighty. My senses are engaged each time the egg whites peak and glisten in the mixing bowl, or the onions and garlic sizzle in a pan, or the bread dough rises in its bowl, and further in the oven, or the parmesan cheese scatters across the pasta just so.
My lens to the outside world, via the camera on my computer, or an app on my phone, to my friends, colleagues, virtual workout mates, immediate and extended family, is small but mighty. Each imperfect angle, disheveled hairdo, laugh, nod of recognition, ebb and flow of conversation, sharing of information or exercise.
My movements are small but mighty. Each journey from room to room, or arms raised overhead under a stream of hot water hitting my face, in the shower, or sun salutation stretching my hamstrings, or push up testing my back and arms, or air squat saying hello to my glutes, or socially-distanced walk or jog expanding my soul, each of these movements are small but mighty.
My heart is small but mighty. The capacity for it to love is great, love my husband, family and friends, the safety of my environment, my socially distanced community, the front line workers and scientists working to make things better, the signs of spring in the air, and so many more things.
The world is vast and interconnected. So interconnected that a virus starting in one place, has stretched its tentacles throughout the world. Joining us in an unfamiliar, scary, but now common, experience. But even with this inter-connectedness, each of our households has become small but mighty. We have been implored to look at the small things that are left, and savour and magnify those things.
I am honouring the small but mighty. What do you honour that is small but mighty?