Becoming Aware
This Lent, instead of giving something up, I decided to pay attention. Not in the passive way—like vaguely noticing the world as it swirls by—but in the intentional, uncomfortable, deeply human way. Yes, I had to resign from my self-imposed hiatus of not following the news. Yes, I had to be more present, even when it hurt. And yes, I’ve felt a little more anxious. A little raw. A little undone. But something beautiful has happened too. I find myself slowing down—stepping off the treadmill of distraction and into the stillness of sacred noticing. I’ve started to pause. To really see. A mother clutches a tiny mitten in the grocery store line. A headline breaks my heart. A siren in the distance becomes a prayer on my lips. I stop scrolling, and I whisper names. God, be near. God, have mercy. God, I see. It turns out that paying attention is its own kind of prayer. Not the folded-hands, eyes-closed kind (though those are good too), but the sort of prayer that walks around in your body. The...