Hello First name / friend,
One of the best parts about writing is the invitation to notice what is going on around us.
As I came down my stairs this morning, I groaned at how the one island in our kitchen has sprouted an array of papers, a bag of dried apricots, a red tin of cookies, a coloring book, a pacifier, and crumpled socks (dirty crumpled socks? Probably.).
I swear I just cleaned that spot. I made myself a cup of coffee and willed myself past the kitchen island and into the front room.
I promised myself I would write this morning, not clean.
In the front room, I thanked myself for at least clearing the couch last night of books and my kids’ buddies. I grabbed my notebook, sat down, and sipped my coffee.
The blank page glared at me. My brain felt tired and uninspired. I drained my cup and closed the notebook, slipped on my shoes, threw on a coat, and went for a walk around the block.
As I took my first steps, I noticed the white puff of my breath in front of me. Birds sang from the bare trees and twittered from rooftops. I could see the first rustlings of neighbors going to work. Garage doors opened and people shuffled out with a nod and a wave as they climbed in their cars.
I returned home and came back to my computer, ready to capture what I had seen and then ask what those noticings might say next about my day.
Today what I notice is that I am a military spouse in the busy season of raising young kids.
My house is in a general state of people-live-here-and-eat-here-and-play-here-mess. The couch is usually covered in Mr. Wrinkles the dog and Poof Poof the squashy unicorn. My spouses’ boots are by the door, we’ll be calling to see what orders look like soon, and there is breakfast to make snacks to pack and who knows what’s for dinner?
Wrapped up in all that are my own dreams and the reckoning and wondering when and how to pursue them.
I don’t have it figured out, but I’m willing to come to the page to try.
When we notice our lives we honor the intricate details of what is currently building our life.
Noticing gives us space to lament, to celebrate, to grieve, to love, to feel frustration and joy, and it allows us to welcome ourselves to the current chapter we are in, seeing it as valuable.
Remembering we are valuable.
Pause + set a timer for 10-15 minutes, and jot down what you notice.
If you do not have time to grab a paper and pen, open the notes app on your phone or write yourself an email.
It is a gift to gather what is true about the moment right in front of you.
