Practice my Lessons in Noticing.

and it really resonated:

WHAT THE LIVING DO
by Marie Howe

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss—we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless:
I am living. I remember you.

Autumn seems to stir my noticing skills – there is so much to notice this time of year…the way the leaves on some trees seem to be liquid color, the way some hawks soar overhead while others sit in treetops, observing the world around them, the way the gray days enhance the colors exponentially…I love autumn.

I didn’t get to venture down these paths but,as my husband and I drove down the highway, I kept my eyes on the woods lining the road. The stunning hues of this golden autumn in Virginia wouldn’t let me look away. And what I noticed was the barely noticeable paths that wandered through the woods. I wondered how those paths came to be, how often people took the time to wander down them, where they led. I imagined the crunch of the leaves under my feet, the scent of autumn heavy in the air, the streams on light from the sun finding a patch of gold to highlight for me. I remembered the autumns of my youth when I did, in fact, follow such paths in the woods. So, maybe, in fact, I did venture down a few of those paths today. I’m glad I noticed.

Today’s Daily OM nearly perfectly captures some of my feelings about NOTICING. They call it Treasure Hunting. Here it is:

Discovering the Little Things that Make Us Happy
Life is full of little wonders that can make us happy. The sound of a baby’s laughter, a good book, the comforting smell of a favorite old sweatshirt, and the warmth from a cup of hot tea are simple pleasures that can easily put smiles on our faces. These “little things” are easily accessible to us and can be sources for finding happiness. A key to doing so is taking the time to put those rose colored glasses from childhood back on so you can easily find the joy in all the “little things” that life has to offer.

Finding a puppy rummaging through the laundry basket, trying on that perfect shade of lipstick, or discovering the extra change you left in your back pocket can turn into moments of delight. Like kids digging in the sandbox for buried trinkets, we may even begin to experience happiness when we engage in the seemingly mundane. Figuring out a software program can feel like deciphering a treasure map, and that first sip of tea in the morning can taste like a forbidden delicacy. Swaying to music playing on the radio can turn into an interpretive jig, riding a bike can seem like flying to the moon, and getting a phone call from that special someone can feel like winning the lottery. A pickup game of basketball becomes an exciting match among champions, and observing an elderly couple walking hand in hand can turn into a meditation on peace and contentment.

When we begin rediscovering that the little things in life can make us happy, we naturally want to share this joy with others. We may gush over a friend when we run into them unexpectedly, praise a street musician for their talents, or blow bubbles for the neighborhood kids to chase. We may even start to think of the little things we can do to make other people happy, which in turn makes us happy all over again. There is an endless supply of little things and little moments that can make us happy. All we have to do is look for them, and they’ll magically start to appear.

There was a tiny ball on the floor of the restaurant we ate in tonight. A small multicolored bouncy ball (like from a gumball machine) that was nearly camoflaged by the oriental carpet. But I noticed it. A brief lesson in noticing the little things.

I was in a co-worker’s office this afternoon and I noticed that the angle of the sun was creating a marvelous shadow on her wall as it worked its way around the plants that fill her space. In fact, it looked almost like a piece of art, very subtly framed on the office wall. And in the middle of one of the plant shadows, a beam of sunlight shone brightly, like a beautiful, ethereal flower. I was quite taken with the sight and pointed it out to my co-worker who was also fascinated. She looked at me and said, “How wonderful that you notice such things!” And I explained about my Lessons in Noticing and knew that I would have to add this here tonight.

Not enough of the right stuff, the good stuff, I fear. I have been buried in work again and, when not at work, focused on my anxieties and the rush of thinking about a new home. I need to be attentive. So, I checked out spiritualityandpractice.com (I’m not putting the link for fear of being branded a spammer or worse) and found this practice for attentiveness. It perfectly captures my lessons in noticing and I will remember it:

Practice of the Day
He stared out at the ocean and said, “Look at the view, young lady. Look at the view.”

And every day, in some little way, I try to do what he said. I try to look at the view. That’s all. Words of wisdom from a man with not a dime in his pocket, no place to go, nowhere to be. Look at the view. When I do what he said, I am never disappointed.

Anna Quindlen in A Short Guide to a Happy Life

To Practice This Thought: Take time to really see what is right in front of you.

I found this in an excerpt from Beauty: The Invisible Embrace by John O’Donohue. It seems to complement my Lessons in Noticing:
In order to become attentive to beauty, we need to rediscover the art of reverence. Our world seems to have lost all sense of reverence. We seldom even use the word any more. The notion of reverence is full of riches that we now need desperately. Put simply, it is appropriate that a human being should dwell on this earth with reverence… Ultimately, reverence is respect before mystery. But it is more than an attitude of mind; reverence is also physical — a dignified attention of body showing that sacred is already here.

It is a gray, chilly late autumn morning. I was up early to go to the grocery store to get ingredients for the cookies I must make for the “Cookie Party” this afternoon. When I returned from the store, I put the bags on the table in the breakfast nook and noticed some activity in the Secret Garden. On stopping to take a closer look, this is what I saw: a brown squirrel munching away on a one of the remaining green stalks; a second brown squirrel busily burying something for later consumption; a pair of industrious blue jays zipping back and forth across the scene, carrying nest-making materials in their beaks; no fewer than a dozen mourning doves pecking around in the damp, leafy areas around the pond; and, the brightest cardinal I’ve ever seen, sitting on the fence observing the activity! It was a magnificent moment of nature’s bounty! I am glad I noticed it!

One of them insisted on me noticing him today. As I drove between doctor appointments this a.m., one of these magnificent raptors flew from one side of the road to the other, dipping right in front of my windshield! Oh, I love the connection I feel when I notice a hawk and, even better, when the hawk notices me!