Pay attention

There’s a little park close to our house called Langthorne Park. I go there most lunchtimes with Hyko. 

On the surface, it looks a bit rough. There’s a lot of litter around. Usually a group of kids smoking a joint on one of the benches near the roses. A guy drinking a can of beer. Mums taking a stroll with their babies. The maintenance guy doing something maintenance-y.

I used to think the park was ugly, and maybe a little dangerous. But there are a few things I’ve grown to love. The dogs that we meet regularly. The joy of watching Hyko chase squirrels, always unsuccessfully.

Most of all, I love the handful of tiny mosaics that are dotted around the park. It’s easy to miss them – I did for months. Sometimes they’re covered by leaves or rainwater or mud. Sometimes I’m just not concentrating. 

Despite the fact that they’re old, dirty, and falling apart, they make me smile. Someone, at some point, spent hours placing all those little pieces into the ground, so that people like me could enjoy these tiny artworks for years to come.

When I see them, it reminds me of the importance of paying attention. Of noticing the small snatches of beauty that exist everywhere. All we need to do is take the time to see them.

Attention is a theme that’s come up a lot for me lately. Jenny Odell writes about it in her book How to Do Nothing, which I love. Iain Broome wrote a newsletter about it. And there’s a tonne of stuff about attention in The Artist’s Way, which I’m reading at the moment. I’ll leave you with this quote:

The quality of life is in proportion, always, to the capacity for delight. The capacity for delight is the gift of paying attention.
— Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way