Paying Attention

I've been painfully sick and busy the past two days and am only now getting the chance to sit down and write.

I've been thinking about what it means to pay attention. Each day I plead with my little students to do just this; to sit quietly, to open their eyes and ears and minds, to see and listen and understand. Each day I am impressed with the progress they have made, with the way their worlds unfold before them, with the way their eyes sparkle with epiphanies.

I think of the red berries growing at the end of my apartment's walkway. I think of the way each day I am newly struck by their beauty, the way each day they are in fact, something new. I think, how lovely, to be twenty years older than these little minds I watch grow each day, and still be just as curious, just as awe-stricken, just as in love with the world unfolding before me.

Which is because I know how to pay attention, not just to the world, not just to the seemingly insignificant details, but to people, but to these children whom I love so dearly. I watch them twirl in the wind blown leaves. I watch them learn to say "please" and "thank you" and "I love you." I watch them discover snow. I watch them dance to music simply because it feels good. I watch them laugh when they are happy and cry when they are sad. I watch them hug one another whenever the impulse hits them. I watch them live on the most basic human level that anyone can live.

I pay close attention to that, to the way they interact with one another and the natural world that surrounds them. I try and remember the days when seeing an airplane fly across a cloudless sky meant everything, when hearing a fire truck in the distance was the best thing that could happen, when pulling a toy train across the floor meant you were the conductor of your own imagination.

And in remembering them, I begin to relive, to revive, the kind of wonder that becomes lost amidst the reality of daily existence. I begin to stop at the sound of trucks and the sight of birds and think, my children would love this, only to discover that I am loving it too.

A friend of mine received some bad news at work a few days ago and burst into tears. I held her. I stroked her hair and said "I'm so sorry" over and over until it became only words. I stood beside her. I watched her cry. I sat silently, annoyed by own inability to think of things to say. It occurred to me then, how quiet I get when things go wrong, how long it takes me to process any kind of sorrow. I have been at a loss for words so many times in my life. They are moments I replay over and over again in my head, wishing I had understood then exactly how I felt, wishing I had been able to express it.

But it is because of my need to pay attention, that I can't. Those moments move too quickly for me. My thoughts can't seem to keep up. I watch people cry. I listen closely to their words. I let the entirety of their sadness soak into me. And it is only then, that I can begin to process it all, that I can begin to feel, to think, to heal. I am quiet because I am internalizing the moment. I am taking it in and building a home for it in my heart. My eyes are wide because I am taking pictures to sort through later when I am returning to you with some attempt at comfort.

I think back to my little students, and the way they return my words and lessons to me days after I've dispensed them. I think of the way they too, are learning how to process, how to listen and feel and provide comfort. I think of the way they all stop and stare at their crying classmates. The way the whole room falls silent, if only for an instant, to grieve alongside their friends. I think of how, even at two, they already understand sympathy and compassion. I think of the way we are all simply people, saddened by one another's sorrow, delighting together in these small wonders.

I think of how our quiet is as simple and beautiful as the discovery of red berries at the end of a walkway. And I think of how lovely that is, because it is something human. Because it is just another way we learn to pay attention.