When we think about lives filled with meaning, we often focus on people whose grand contributions benefited humanity. Abraham Lincoln,Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela surely felt they had a worthwhile life. But how about us ordinary people,struggling in a typical existence?

There is an important element to consider. Think about the first butterfly you stop to admire after a long winter or imagine the scenery at the top of a hill after a fresh hike. Sometimes existence delivers us small moments of beauty. When people are open to appreciating such experiences, these moments may enhance how they view their life. This element is defined as EA (experiential appreciation) by Joshua Hicks, a psychological professor at Texas A &M University.

Recently, he and his research team set out to figure out whether EA was related to a person’s sense of meaning in a series of studies that involved more than 3,000 participants. At an initial test, researchers had participants rate their agreement of different coping strategies to relieve their stress. They found people who managed stress by focusing on their appreciation for life’s beauty also reported experiencing life as highly meaningful.

Researchers then conducted a series of experiments, in which they gave participants specific tasks and, once more, asked them to report how strongly they identified with statements linked to purpose, etc. In one case, participants who watched an awe-inspiring video reported having a greater sense of EA and meaning in life, compared with those who watched more neutral videos. After reflecting on the results collected from the participants, researchers confirmed their original theory.

But applying that insight can be difficult.Our modern, fast-paced, project-oriented lifestyles fill the day with targets and goals. We are on the go, and we attempt to maximize output both at work and at leisure.

This focus on future outcomes makes it all too easy to miss what is happening right now. Yet life happens in the present moment. We should slow down, let life surprise us and embrace the significance in the everyday life.

What is a family? Why does it matter? What does it teach us that we can’t learn on our own? These questions seem especially relevant in the holiday season when it is often our tradition to gather as families and celebrate together.

My mother was one of twelve children. As they grew up, married and had children of their own, most of them lived near enough to gather for holidays at my grandparents’ home in a small town in the mountains of North Carolina.

I don’t recall getting many gifts from them. I remember the sense of belonging, of being part of something that assured me I was loved and not alone. I delighted in the laughing, playing and fighting with my crazy cousins, I watched my granddad and uncles sit on the porch(门廊), rain or shine, smoking and joking, arguing about politics and trying to solve the problems of the world. I listened to grandmother, mother and aunts stir pots on the stove and talk about their lives, hopes, dreams and disappointments, and gossip about any sister who failed to show up. The food was always plentiful and delicious—country ham, sweet potatoes, green beans, biscuits and my grandmother’s banana pudding. But for me, the food was never the highlight. The highlight was simply being together. A family.

However, they’re all gone now. My parents and grandparents, my aunts and uncles have left this world for the next. My cousins are scattered(分散)here and there. And yet the memories linger, along with the love that we shared. I treasure those memories and the things they taught me. They told me that families aren’t perfect, but they prepare us to find our way in an imperfect world. They made me realize that all families are crazy in their own peculiar(独特的)ways.

My husband and I are growing a new family, while keeping close to the surviving members of the families. It’s a beautiful blend(混合)of kindness, nurturing(养育)and friendships, which grows year after year.

I hope this holiday season will fill you with lovely memories of the family that raised you, and surround you with all the people who mean “family” to you now.

I tried not to look down. My palms (手掌) were sweating. All I could concentrate on was the man below who was keeping the ladder steady. The tiny people waved up at me, but I couldn’t see them clearly.

When I got to the top, some sort of supernatural force brought my feet to the edge of the platform. I was going to slip off the board. The line holding me was going to break, and I was once again going to be thrown to death. Down was the only direction my eyes would go.

I begged to go back down the ladder, but the stupid man tried to convince me. The tiny dots below shouted encouragingly, saying they would run with me as I flew. I was going to slide off that platform. I couldn’t think; the tears stopped my brain. Why wouldn’t he let me go back? The message replayed in my mind, “You’re going to die…”

Like a blown-up balloon, I was let go just before it could be knotted at the bottom. I went in every direction, tension escaping from my body as I fell. The breeze hit my face and cooled my sweaty body. I could see clearly now, and I was flying.

Today, I am still terrified of heights. It would be nice to say that I conquered my fear and found something I loved. I owe my zip line (飞索) experience to the Englishman who pushed me off the platform. I am grateful for the experience because I love adventure. Trying new things has always appealed to me. Some of the most rewarding experiences I have had, like flying, have come out of conquering what at first appears to be frightening and impossible. While my days of aerial escapades are over, I look forward to the future and the question of fear of flying and will continue to create questions wherever I go.