Just Noticing

I often feel inspired to write about the everyday things that happen around me. I keep a running list in my phone, and some of what I jot down turns into a post, while other observations, thoughts and ideas remain captured as food for a future fate. Each of the things I have noticed here could be its own stand-alone essay - a commentary on human nature, thoughts about the struggles of parenting, an exploration of the solemnity we find in tradition. Instead, I share them all as a list, letting each stand alone as something I noticed this week and nothing more.

I felt unexpectedly happy when I ran into a friend at the grocery store.

I savored the smell of a bakery in the morning.

I basked in the quiet hum of my sleeping house.

I surrendered to afternoon tiredness, falling into perfect nap sleep.

I watched a man walking through Costco make his trash someone else's problem when he tossed it into a display.

I found comfort in the familiarity of holiday traditions.

I jolted awake at 2:45am to Christmas morning excitement (we made them wait until 6!).

I laughed with friends as we enjoyed pizza and shared stories about raising kids.

I cried watching my son struggle emotionally, feeling ill-equipped to help him.

I call this newsletter “Noticing” because I find incredible power in how we perceive what’s happening around us. While we can’t give deep thought to all of it, I see value in contemplating some of it. When I write about something that I notice, I learn more about myself, gain empathy for others and increase my awareness of how what I experience impacts my place in the world. I contemplate what’s most important and sort through what feels perpetually confusing. But sometimes, what we notice doesn’t require a whole bunch of thought. There is beauty in simply noticing that something happened. I don’t need to react. I don’t need to philosophize. I can just be present.

The universe speaks to us in whispers, but not all the whispers we hear are the universe.

This morning, I glanced into the yard at the exact moment a tiny finch hopped across the grass. I noticed the pine siskins chattering as I pulled out of the driveway, and I appreciated that the snow falling on my hike looked like a scene from A Charlie Brown Christmas. None of these things likely implies anything profound about the meaning or trajectory of my life, but I was there when they all happened, I noticed them, and that feels special.

Thank you for reading about what I notice. I love getting your notes and hearing your thoughts about what resonates with you, and I am grateful for having been on this journey with you in 2024. I look forward to the observations of 2025. Until next time, keep noticing, and I will too.