The Art of Noticing

I’ve been pondering lately. I ponder in the car or in the tub or sitting on the deck.  I’ve realized you can ponder just about anywhere.  Pondering can be exhilarating or it can be a down right dirty task.  I’d have to say my pondering falls somewhere in between.

I’ve been pondering my skill set recently.  What am I good at? Am I an expert at any one thing?  Do I have skills others don’t? If so, what are they? What do you call my skills?  These are the thoughts I’ve been pondering of late. Pondering because I believe we all have a purpose and unique skills and it is our task to seek that purpose and go forth into the world and make a positive impact. 

I have many skills. I can be a leader and a follower.  I love to brainstorm and problem solve.  I thoroughly enjoy researching and finding answers.  I am a creative soul and love to dive into a project, but do better at duplicating a creative vision than developing one of my own.  Writing has become an outlet for me and delight in the satisfaction it brings my soul.  I can organize any given area, drawer or closet in the blink of an eye (but promise me you won’t look in my kitchen junk drawers, because you’d call me a liar.)  I am a great time manager and multi-tasker and can almost be in three places at once.  Really. I can.

These are life skills and I probably have many others I haven’t listed, but the one that continues to play over and over in my mind is simply….I notice things.  I am a Noticer.  Is that a real word?

Notice:  The act of noting or observing; perception or attention. Respectful attention or consideration.  To perceive with the mind, to detect.  To treat with courteous attention.

This is one of my strongest skills I’ve come to realize.  Now, granted, we all notice things, but I think there are different levels of observation.

There are the “ten feet in front of my face” noticers who notice the grandma in the grocery store shopping for spaghetti and has on a bright yellow dress and red shoes.

Then there are the “hmm…that was interesting” noticers who notice the grandma in her yellow dress and that she’s using a old calculator and nods hello to her as they pass but don’t think too much about it.

And then there are the “Noticers like me” who notice the grandma’s ankles are spilling out of her red shoes that are probably 25 years old and two sizes too small and her yellow dress doesn’t fit any longer and observe that she is opening and closing her wallet and continually counting her one dollar bills as she adds the amount of each item she’s just placed into her cart and tells her husband they won’t be able to have sauce with the spaghetti this week. 

This is the art of noticing. 

This is a skill, for lack of a better term, that I possess.  Is this a skill?  I don’t really know, but it is part of my every day life and being a Noticer gives me opportunities to act or not act.  The definition itself uses the word “treat” as a verb; to treat with courteous attention.  Most of the time, being a Noticer requires action, at least for me it does.

I could buy an extra bottle of spaghetti sauce and quietly ask the clerk to give it to them as they check out as an “item they must have forgotten” or I could just give them $2 from my wallet and tell her she “dropped them”.   I have an opportunity to act and can if I choose to do so. 

Maybe that’s why I enjoy writing so much.  There are stories to be told when you are a Noticer.  The little details that others don’t see become the thread that holds the fabric together and in an instant an entire yellow dress can be seen or not seen.

So, today, I have pondered and now embrace one of my life skills as an important one that others might find trivial.  To me, however, being a Noticer has given me great insight and at times such profound peace and am happy that I can add “The Art of Noticing” to my ever changing list of skills. 

Breathe Deeply

May the spirit of the weekend wash you free of the worries of the week.

Relax.

Breathe Deeply.

Love Well.

Let the sunshine fill every bit of your soul.

Perhaps Some Good Old Fashioned TRUST

Mechanical pencils have been purchased, wide-ruled and college-ruled loose-leaf paper has been put into the 1 ½ inch (not 2 inch) binders and text books have been covered with stretchy colored fabric.  I have signed 3,258 forms swearing my children have read the rules for French class and promised to pay for all damages caused in Chemistry by my oldest should that occur and given approval for them to be photographed, have their name published (should they win a huge contest in PE or something), and to eat a hot pretzel at lunch instead of the normal hot meal.

I can only imagine the school files for each child in the office!!  How to even begin to organize such information?  This one can’t have tree nuts. This one can’t have their picture taken.  Craziness!

I don’t ever recall having to even get a permission slip to get on three huge buses and travel with the band to an out of town football game in a city an hour away.  Ever.

We were told to bring money for a snack, show up at 3:15pm and we left.  That simple.

The book damage forms my youngest had to complete this week for each text book that was checked out to him, required him to draw and label all the damage that was already on the book when he got it, list the pages that were torn previously and sign his name and his life away that it was accurate.  Trust me, it was more complicated than any car rental damage form I’ve ever had to complete for a $25,000 car.  Text books are meant to be used and dog-eared and loved and the occasional pencil smiley face on the bottom of page 248 isn’t going to hurt a soul. 

Our trust and good faith in people has been lost.  It really makes me a bit sad.

Who do the schools think they are dealing with? Don’t they think as parents, we teach our children to respect the rules their teacher tells them and to respect their classmates and supplies.  We really don’t need a five-page list of the rules and consequences if he forgets to turn in his homework 6 weeks late.  Trust me, if my child is turning in work six weeks late, there WILL be consequences.  

I think we’ve gone a little overboard on all the dotting of the “what if” i’s and the crossing of the “just in case” t’s.  Kids are kids and yes, this generation has a few more bells and whistles than I had, but they are kids.  They are going to run in the halls with a pencil in their hand so they can try and get a seat next to that cute girl in Science and they are going to forget their assignment in their locker on occasion because that’s what kids do. 

I don’t have the solution for every school issue, but I do think a little trust in parents and good faith in our children goes a long way in my book (which isn’t covered in a stretchy fabric and a few of the pages are underlined and I still managed to graduate from college and be a respectful grown-up).

Connections

Here is the truth.

Plain and simple.

We all want to connect with one another.

Read it again. (I’ll wait.)

When it comes right down to the nitty-gritty of life, we all want to be connected in one way or another.  It is a truth for me.  Maybe that’s why I cry when I watch this video.

Or this one.

I went on a walk in the neighborhood this morning and found myself saying hello to the mother walking her children to school, to the dog owner of a brown and white spotted puppy, to the woman fixing the broken sprinkler in her front yard and to the grandma collecting the weekly advertisements from her front door, still in her robe mind you.

They all said hello back to me. 

I texted a few people while I was walking too.  Thoughts of them came to mind, so decided to just text a hello or good morning.  I just made a little connection to let them know I was thinking of them.  Nothing fancy. 

They all replied back to me.

There is a desire in each of us to be kind and share ourselves.  We are all alike in this way. We are. Even our cats (who normally could care less about each other) want to connect to each other.

I hope today you will say hello to those you see or offer to help open the door or reach out and connect with someone just because. You don’t have to have a reason.  You really don’t. 

Sing My Song

my soul has been nourished by the afternoon light

my heart has been touched by the wind from the east

i now sing my own song

words I collect and gather together

to create my own melody of life

to sing aloud for the trees to hear

my soul has been nourished by the jasmine tea

my heart has been touched by the petals of white 

i now sing my own song.