Seeing this ordinary life of mine.
Seeing the sacred that’s strung in between the many, many mundane moments.
Seeing the holiness that exists inside those prosaic, everyday things.
This seeing has been a preoccupation of mine for a long time. I searched my archives and found pages of posts that featured either photographs of or stories about my life’s small moments. The “grout in between the tiles” of life, as I’ve called it. Which is where all the magic resides, I’ve found.
In her essay titled Seeing, Annie Dillard said, what you see is what you get, imbuing those familiar words with a new layer of meaning. Pay attention, and your life will be rich.
Lately my friend Aidan been writing about noticing the small moments in her life. The messy, the in-between, the oft-overlooked experiences that, in fact, add up to life itself. She’s one of many, many people who I know who are out there, noticing and stringing pearls onto the strings of their days, one at a time. What they – and I – are building is a masterpiece.
This blog began as a catalog of these small moments. I wanted to remember all the things I knew I would forget in those first exhausting, chaotic years of Grace and Whit’s lives. And as I kept blogging, and kept noticing, I realized that the practice of writing about the divinity in my days had actually changed the way I existed in the world.
Now I can’t stop noticing. Every day I trip over pieces of beauty, unexpected, unanticipated, often unimagined. This is really what Instagram is, for me now: a gathering of the tiny, sparkling shards that glitter in my days. I would love if you would find me there!
One thing I know for sure, as I barrel towards my 40th birthday, is that these things, these details that I notice and observe, these moments that pierce me: they are my life. With that in mind, here are some things I have noticed lately:
Watching Grace and Whit ascend a rock wall with grace and grit.
Last week was one non-stop, breathtaking, outrageous sunset after another.
Grace’s fifth grade class is participating in NaNoWriMo. In the afternoons she likes to sit on the floor of my office and write while I work. I can’t wait to read her novel.
Whit doesn’t make his bed, but every single morning, without fail, he lines these three (Beloved, Bear, and Beloved’s Brother) up against his pillow. I like to go in there during my work day and every single time this sight brings tears to my eyes.
What are you noticing right now?
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