On missed moments, overlooked beauty, and the practice of noticing
How many beautiful things have I walked right past?
It’s not that they weren’t there. It’s that I wasn’t.
Not really.
Love doesn’t always wave its arms. It shows up in glances. In silence. In gestures so soft they dissolve if you’re moving too fast.
I’ve missed so much trying to get somewhere. Trying to be someone. Trying to do the next thing.
All while the moment, this moment, was quietly offering itself.
Beauty doesn’t compete for attention. It waits.
And if you’re not paying attention, it just goes.
But sometimes, you catch it. Even just once.
And it changes the way you see.
The way sunlight moves across the table. The sound someone makes when they’re almost laughing. The pause between words when someone’s letting themselves be known.
It’s all love.
Not the grand kind. The quiet kind.
The kind that doesn’t ask to be noticed but blooms when you do.
I used to think I needed more love. Now I wonder how much love was already here, but I didn’t recognize it.
This is the practice:
To slow down.
To be where your feet are.
To stop waiting for the big moment and notice the small ones trying to meet you.
You don’t need to chase love.
You just need to not miss it.
What’s something you almost didn’t notice that ended up changing everything?