Inattentiveness

I realized something the other day.

My dog doesn't realize that I pick up his poop.

He is always looking somewhere else as I do it. He knows there are bags. He knows there is a pause after he does his business in which he is supposed to stay put. But I really don't think he knows that I pick it up. I also believe this because he is so choosy about the spot he goes...you'd think after 13 years, if he really knew that it was going to get picked up anyway, that he wouldn't care about the laser precision with which he must choose his spot. (Regardless by the way of whether it is 40 degrees below zero, or a tsunami is immanent)

So I was having difficulty sleeping a few nights ago and thinking about this - what seems like a trivial issue - and decided to do the math in my head....I've been walking this dog for 10, almost 11 years and if my calculations are correct, I've picked up in ballpark of 7000 dog turds.  Some people count sheep when they can't sleep, I count....

Well after I finished counting, and still couldn't sleep, I got to thinking this:

"In my own life, what kind of things have happened around me 7000 times that I don't ever pay attention to, or even know is going on?"

In some ways the question is impossible to answer: if I haven't paid attention to it, how could know whether I've missed it or not.

But the possibility that there are things constantly going on around me that I'm inattentive to, is perhaps more crucial than the things themselves.

And as I still couldn't sleep that night, I reflected upon all the thousands of nights when sleep has come easily to me. So easily, that I didn't have to pay attention to it at all.

It's so often the case that we don't really pay attention to things until there's a problem, or the things we're used to having run smoothly suddenly don't.

What do we miss by not paying attention to the commonplace things of life? With all the distractions in our lives is there a hidden cost to being so incredibly absent from our experiences? I realized recently that when I'm teaching mindfulness, this is one of the mental postures I'm inviting people to engage. That there is tremendous value to tuning in to the commonplace and ordinary things of our lives. That our default setting as humans is to only pay attention when things go "wrong" and neglect what's happening in those big spaces that make up the rest of our lives. We become that manager or spouse, or coach, or parent that everybody loathes; the one that only says something when there's a problem, and never acknowledges the beauty and goodness in the in-between.

Life is a gift. Everything in our lives are also gifts. If our attentiveness is limited to problem-solving, to novelty, to the unexpected, we miss out on most of the amazing gifts that exist in the mundane, run-of-mill, feeding and cleaning up after kids parts of our existence.

I know I'm not even remotely saying something new here. Others have articulated it more beautifully than I have. But perhaps today we can stop and notice. We can remind each other that there are things like picking up dog poop going on all around us. While my dog may not grasp the significance of the act even if he were to notice it, there is goodness and beauty in the act of removing his fecal matter from my neighbor's lawn. There is a demonstration of care - for the dog, for the neighborhood, and for my wife who can stay inside on bitterly cold days while I walk the faithful hound. Care is a gift. The capacity to care, and the opportunities to care for, are also gifts.

And while my dog may not have noticed the act of my poop removal, until now, I hadn't really paid much attention either....at least not to the significance of this ordinary act, repeated 7000 times, but that points to the caring and gifting in daily life.

Even insomnia, for one night, is a gift if it brings my consciousness to how God shows up in what seems to be insignificant and meaningless places, if only we can notice, and pay attention.

But paying attention I'm learning, takes much deliberate practice. It is not something we change through a moment of insight, but through a life in which we choose disciplines and rituals that slow us down and orient us towards contemplation and reflection, towards a practice of attentiveness that runs counter to our human brain's proclivity for crisis management.

So today I might encourage you to pay attention. But more so I encourage you in the journey of practicing attentiveness, of finding practices and rituals that regularly bring you back to attention to all that is going on around you. And in the midst of it, whether it be dog poop or insomnia or any of the 7000 normal things in your life, may you see and enjoy God's gifts and care.