Sleeping with a mosquito

mozzyI have never made a secret of the fact I have an intense dislike for mosquitoes. Mainly, I have to admit, because they seem to like me. I react badly to having uninvited guests for dinner when I am the only thing on their menu. My ears may have lost the capacity to hear bats in the darkness, but even with them stuffed full of duvet I can still hear the incessant whine of a mosquito on the hunt for supper. There is an absolute and focussed awareness about these moments it is impossible to sleep through.

Of course, I have asked myself none too politely, what purpose the little buggers can possibly serve, feeling (usually as I itch and swell) that they must have been placed on this world for the sole purpose of being annoying. Yet I know full well they are more than that. They are themselves a huge food resource for other species, pollinators of countless plants and hold the balance of power in many ecosystems. For our own species, as well as others, they are a vector for disease and parasites and thus an effective means of population control. Not a particularly pleasant curriculum vitae, but an impressive one. They are such tiny creatures, so fragile and ephemeral, yet their cumulative effect on the world is incalculable.

“If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito ”~ the Dalai Lama.

You can see the potential in this subject already, can’t you? From the ecological point of view of energy conservation, recycling etc. Or the socio-political implications… But I’ll leave that for others better qualified. We all know what we ought to be doing and there is enough out there without me adding my mite.

Though that word brings to mind another story about how much small things count. The parable of the widow’s mite tells of a woman who gave two small copper coins while others gave vast sums. That they represented all she had gave it more value than the gifts of others who offered just a tiny percentage of what they owned. You can’t really tell the value of what is given freely without knowing the story behind it.

Little things matter. Of course, being hobbit-sized, my sons would argue that is a predictable statement coming from me.

But seriously, just think about it for a moment. What makes your day? Most of the time it is little things. We don’t win the lottery, get a wonderful new job or the car of our dreams every day. But there is the potential for a seemingly mundane morning to bring almost unreasonable amounts of joy. It might be opening your eyes to a lover’s touch, a dog waiting motionless except for the end of a furiously wagging tail, a smile, a shaft of sunlight, a word or the first flower of spring…. We find happiness waiting in the smallest of things if we are open to it.

I don’t think it is ever possible to ‘make someone happy’. Happiness is a state of being we find within, our own response to life. What we can do, though, is create conditions in which others may find their own moment of joy. And usually, these are made up of small things. The little acts of kindness,  of fun and shared laughter or the small gesture that shows you have actually thought, have been aware enough to notice and care. Oddly, the more you give in this way, it seems, the greater your own access to happiness becomes. It can be as simple as a smile to a stranger in the street. Yes, in these disconnected days you may get looked at as if you are strange yourself, but does that matter? You are the one who is smiling already. And there is comfort in that.

Then again, sometimes comfort is what we chiefly need and here too it can be the smallest things that make all the difference. Just a word or a hug. Sometimes even a thought.

When there are areas of our lives that really hurt we can feel isolated. Perhaps we feel we cannot share or burden others with our words or worries. Or we’ll share the surface story, hiding the deeper and true cause of the pain. As a friend wrote the other day, help is a difficult thing to ask for, and it is sometimes just as difficult to accept when it is offered. But a small gesture that shows you are aware, that you care enough to see beyond the smile to the person and the pain it may hide, can make all the difference.

We are constantly surrounded by people, emotions, noise, and images. Between bustling streets and a multimedia assault of information, it is no surprise that we retreat into our own little worlds in a kind of self-defence. It takes the unusual to attract our attention and switch on our awareness. Like the buzzing of a mosquito in a silent room, we suddenly focus and are awake on every level. The quiet gift of your attention may be all it takes to make a difference to that heightened awareness in someone who is hurting, just as an unexpected smile can start a day with joy. Like the widow’s mite, we cannot know how much these things mean both to the giver and the gifted. But I think there is a magic in that awareness that blesses both and is its own gift.

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