Learning (again) how to notice

Lately I have found myself paying attention. Paying attention not to the inner me…I’ve always done that. I’ve always listened to the inner dialogue, the constant self-check. The inner critique. At times it has been worrisome, exhausting. Yet, it is an intensely important aspect of my make up, of who God created me to be. It is just me, and I accept and embrace it.

But over time I have forgotten the child-like wonder in the world outside of me. I forgot to take the time to really enter into the physical world. Being a visual person, I have always noticed beauty, but entering into the physical goes beyond just sight, though sight is am important conduit of information.

It is when I am out doors, doing my two favorite activities…bicycling and swimming…that I find it easiest to enter into the physical dimension, and take it in with a sort of meditative enjoyment. It becomes almost a prayer, in a way that I have never prayed before.

Lately I find myself noticing how my legs feel when I am pedaling my bike. The weight of humidity on my skin, or the delight of days when a crisp wind blows and the sunlights chases in and out among the trees. I notice the sound of my steady, even breathing. The pull of the hills as I ascend and the whoosh of delight when I coast. It is good.

I enjoy the blessing of having a swimming pool in my own backyard. I never thought I’d have that, and yet it is a source of constant delight for me in the summer months. I love the way the sunlight flickers through the water. I enjoy the caress of cool water on sun warmed skin and the release of tired muscles. I emerge from the depths and feel the soft breeze against my face. My dog races around the pool, intensely interested in my play. I splash the water to entertain him and look up and notice the glory of large, crystal drops of water falling down on my face like magic. I dive into the turmoil of water, and feel the tickle of tiny bubbles rushing toward my face in the pool. I find myself laughing as I throw a water sogged tennis ball for Louie, and watch him race with glee to catch it before it lands, white feathery tail swishing with delight.  I smell the clean scent of the slightly salty water. I hear the birds scolding from the safety of their leafy homes. 

I have discovered a child like joy in the process of noticing the outer world that I had forgotten over the years when I was paying too much attention to the inner world. It is good to notice. To breathe. To feel. Those are gifts from God. Why did I forget?

And yet, I see the irony of how I am taking in these observations, meditating on them, and making them part of the inner landscape. My natural habitat. And that’s ok too. If my inner world becomes too sterile, it is enlivened by the addition of the outer world, and its rude, basic, gorgeous reality.

I am thankful to God for helping me to notice. We lose so much to preoccupation with our inner selves, and with adult worries and ruminations. Noticing the world brings gratitude. Noticing and enjoying is a prayer.