Pay Attention. Be Astonished. Tell About it.
An ordinary Wednesday morning at Lake Carillon.
This morning, after my workout at the gym, I took a walk around Lake Carillon.
It was still dark, about an hour before sunrise. The lights surrounding the lake reflected beautifully on the water. There was a fountain, a gentle breeze, and trees lining the walking path.
It was a serene scene, even with the sounds of traffic from I-275 and the nearby buildings.
I wasn't walking to achieve a particular step count. I'd already been to the gym, and this wasn't another workout. I simply wanted to enjoy a little time outside before heading home to get ready for work.
And I'm so glad I did.
Making Room for the Unexpected
One of the things I've been thinking about lately is how much we miss when we're constantly occupied.
We listen to podcasts, audiobooks, music, and news. We fill the quiet moments with information, often without thinking about it.
I enjoy those things. I learn a great deal from listening to other people's conversations, experiences, and perspectives.
But sometimes I take my headphones off.
Not because there's something wrong with listening, but because there's also something valuable about being available to whatever is happening around me.
An unexpected conversation from the older likely Vietnam Vet writer moving from machine to machine to keep his body moving. What if he had a place he could go and have pleasantries like an actual polite society? I don’t know if he does, but I’ll at least be ready for the chance. A sound I wouldn't otherwise hear. Something beautiful that I might have walked right past.
Serendipity needs a little room to happen.
Finding Balance in What We Take In
I've been thinking about information consumption and how easily we can accumulate more than we have an opportunity to process.
It's a little like filling a balloon. We keep adding more and more, but at some point, something has to give.
I don't want to stop learning. Quite the opposite. I love learning.
But I also want to leave enough space to think about what I've learned, connect it to my own experiences, and develop my own perspective.
That requires some quiet.
And sometimes quiet doesn't mean absolute silence. Sometimes it means walking beside a lake with traffic humming in the distance, watching the lights reflect on the water, and allowing your thoughts to go wherever they want.
The Beauty of Ordinary Moments
The walk was about three-quarters of a mile.
Nothing particularly remarkable happened.
I didn't set a personal record. I didn't accomplish anything extraordinary. I didn't even walk all the way home from the gym. My car was parked nearby, and I had a few more minutes of walking before getting into it.
But I enjoyed myself.
And I think there's something important about that.
We spend so much of our lives preparing for the next thing, working toward goals, solving problems, and checking things off our lists.
Those things matter. I certainly have plenty of them in my own life.
But so does noticing the life we're living while we're doing all of that.
The lights around Lake Carillon won't look exactly the same tomorrow. The sky will be different. The reflections will change. The breeze might not be there.
This morning was its own experience.
And I was there to enjoy it.
A Thought to Carry Into the Day
Mary Oliver wrote:
"Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it."
I love that.
It doesn't require a remarkable adventure or some extraordinary accomplishment.
Sometimes it simply requires taking off your headphones, looking around, and allowing yourself to appreciate what's right in front of you.
This morning, that was a beautiful lake, a few minutes before sunrise, and an ordinary walk after the gym.
And now I've told you about it.
❤️
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