Attention
Light through leaves.

"You can't see the forest for the trees."

It's a common phrase meaning you are so focused on the details that you are unable to see the big picture. Of course, the statement is not meant to be flattering. It's a criticism.

Fog on the Appalachian Trail.

But, what if, instead of being a critical statement, this way of seeing the world could actually be a compliment? A new way of looking at situations resulting in peace and clarity? Imagine spending less time worrying about the big picture (retirement 15 years away, the election, your child's college career, or who is hosting Christmas and what will you eat), and spending more time looking at the details, (gratitude for the people you work alongside today, the fact that we have the freedom to vote, your child's brilliance and humor that makes them unique, or the reason we celebrate Christmas) being mindful of the here and now, seeing the intricacies of the moment, and celebrating the present.

Ready for the Journey.

This is the essence of the spiritual discipline called Attention.

A couple years ago, my son and daughter-in-law walked the Appalachian Trail (or AT). They shared with me that there are a couple different ways that people approach the journey. Some, like their friend Aaron, complete the Trail quickly. Aaron actually RAN the AT, finishing the 2,000+ mile trip in a matter of weeks!

Jonathan and Miriam tried the opposite approach. Rather than hurrying along the trail and trying to get from one end to the other with haste, they made a conscious decision to slow down and enjoy the beauty of the woods, the wildflowers blooming beside the path, or the fog settling over the mountain tops. They quickly realized that this tactic for hiking made the trip less of an accomplishment and more of an enjoyable adventure. They were surrounded by the forest. Paying attention to the trees (and everything else in the woods) made the trip magical.

We could learn a lot from their experience.

Attentiveness involves quieting our souls enough so that we can hear God’s still small voice.
Attentiveness begins when we slow down and keep our eyes and ears and hearts wide open
so that we notice the details, not just the broad brush strokes.
Rev. Kristen Yates
Dew on a web.

Reverend Yates hits the nail on the head. Her wisdom is exactly what we need to hear.

Quiet our souls. We live in a loud world. Everything calls for our attention. From the 24-hour news cycle, to social media and videos of cats, to our work load and family demands. Every moment of our day is filled with noise. So, how do you quiet your soul in a world of noise? Do you meditate? Do you pray? Can you even imagine turning off the TV? Or (SHOCKING) your phone? When was the last time you sat in silence?

Slow down. I have a family member who is always on the move. If they're not adding another event to the calendar, it's another trip to the store, another project to tackle, wall to paint, room to remodel, party to plan. They can't sit still. They fidget and fuss. Unfortunately, there are many of us just like my family member. It's as if we're addicted to activity and movement. Perhaps as I get older, I see the wisdom in sitting. I understand the power of slowing down. It gives me space to consider my next steps, both literally and figuratively. Pacing myself gives my body and mind time to think through the journey.

Frost on a window.

Notice the details. When you visit an art gallery, do you stand at a distance or lean into the painting? Do you see the painting as a whole or do you evaluate each and every brush stroke? The same can be true with a flower, examining the petals, the stem, the stamen. Or a drop of dew on a spiderweb. Or light shining through leaves.

Or even a frosted window. A few years ago we had an extreme cold snap. It was so cold the windows in our house frosted over. At first I was annoyed because the frost blocked my view. And then, I realized that the frost offered a view all its own! I took this picture when I became aware of the variations of the frost, the intricacies of the shapes and crystals forming on the glass, like feathers frozen in time. I understood in that moment that the details matter.

Another example, if you need one: My Uncle Larry was an amazing man. He was funny, brilliant, deeply committed to serving God. My mother told me this week something I didn't know about him. He always knew the color of someone's eyes. Uncle Larry paid attention to this particular detail, which meant that he slowed down, he studied the iris, the shape, the glimmer. He knew a detail about each person he met that most people would look past.

As you go about your day, I invite you to stop and smell the roses. Examine the intimate details. Pay attention to those things you may have missed before. Slow down. Quiet your soul. Notice the details.

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