Sweat the small stuff
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Sean of the South
Sean Dietrich
Dear Self.
Pay attention to the little stuff today.
Things you usually overlook.
The seemingly insignificant.
Notice these things.
Things like short sentences. Or typoz. Smiles from strangers. The shape of an arbitrary cloud. The cardinal in your backyard birdbath that reminds you of a loved one. The scattered thought you’re having now about black licorice. Where’d that come from?
The red fox that sprinted across your neighborhood sidewalk this morning. The butterfly that randomly landed on you, for no reason at all. The song that played overhead in the supermarket at just the right time, which was your mom’s favorite tune.
Notice. Notice. Notice.
When you drink your coffee this morning, DRINK your coffee. Pay attention to EVERY SIP. Really taste it. The Norman Rockwell book that’s been on your coffee table since the Punic Wars so that it’s almost invisible to you. LOOK at it.
The near miss you had in traffic at the stoplight last night. The way the deer on the shoulder of Highway 9 peacefully looked at you when he saw your vehicle speed by.
The random text you received from a person you were randomly thinking about during the exact moment you were thinking of them.
Pay attention, Self. Don’t let these things slip by unnoticed.
Notice all little stuff that occurs. Not just some of it. Every tiny, perceivably meaningless thing that is going on in your life.
Because nothing is meaningless, of course. It all has meaning. Even the random semicolon that you use for no conceivable reason at all; it has meaning.
So say it aloud to yourself. “See the little stuff.” Say it when you’re driving. “See the little stuff.” Say it in the shower as you scrub your armpits. Say this a thousand times if you must, otherwise you’ll forget.
Don’t just look at the little things. Watch them happen. Honor them. Experience them. Hold a little bit of awe in your heart when each itty-bitty grace falls from the sky, just for you.
Give it the respect it deserves. For it is a miracle, no matter how small. And miracles deserve to be revered.
Open yourself to the possibilities that each day bears the mark of destiny upon it. Every small event is SUPPOSED to happen. Nothing happens by chance.
It’s all been coordinated. Choreographed. Every movement. Like the guy playing cymbals in the back row of the symphony’s percussion section. For most of the concert he’s just sitting there, endlessly counting, occasionally picking his nose, waiting for measure 7,293,128. Then, finally, he gets to bang his brass.
But his two seconds of musical percussion are important. His crashing sound is vital to the entire symphonic work. Without his cymbals, the whole masterpiece would be cheapened.
So pay attention to the good. The bad. The crappy. Honor it all. Consider it all sacred. Cherish it all.
Because each event is connected in the domino chain of life. When one small thing happens, it leads to another. Then another. Then another. A butterfly flaps its wings in Paris and sets off a tornado in Texas.
So keep your eyes peeled, Self. Love yourself entirely. Appreciate everything. And above all, quit talking to yourself aloud. Because you look crazy.
