Reflections on Being
A reflection on paying attention — and what it means to live more awake
There is something I have been noticing lately. The swans and their babes heading down Long Pond out at Madaket on Nantucket.
Really. I have been pausing to reflect on life, time, and being.
Several dear friends are facing the final chapters of their lives. Their journeys are their stories to tell, not mine. But walking beside them has quietly changed the way I think about my own days.
Not in a dramatic way.
In a Tuesday kind of way.
I find myself paying closer attention to the ordinary moments that are so easy to overlook.
The first cup of coffee.
A conversation with my husband before we both disappear into our work.
A walk with Penny, our Labrador, who has absolutely no interest in tomorrow and lives entirely in today.
A phone call with one of my daughters.
An unexpected email from someone I haven’t heard from in years.
The interview I record each week with another fascinating person who somehow leaves me seeing the world just a little differently.
These aren’t extraordinary moments. They are simply life.
For years, like many of us, I measured my days by what I accomplished. Another client served. Another keynote delivered. Another book written. Another project completed.
I still love my work. I doubt I will ever really retire.
But I no longer think the value of a day is measured only by what I produce.
I’m beginning to believe it is measured by how fully I notice it.
That has surprised me.
As a corporate anthropologist, I’ve spent my career helping organizations see what they couldn’t see about themselves. Observation has always been my profession.
Only recently have I realized that the most important observations are often personal.
What am I overlooking?
Who have I not called?
What conversation have I postponed because I assumed there would always be another opportunity?
What beauty has become so familiar that I no longer notice it?
These aren’t questions about aging. They’re questions about living.
Perhaps this is one of the unexpected gifts of growing older.
You stop assuming there will always be another Tuesday.
And because of that, this Tuesday becomes remarkably precious.
I don’t find that thought depressing. I find it liberating.
It encourages me to say yes a little more often. To linger over lunch with a friend. To spend another hour with my grandchildren. To take the longer walk. To begin writing the book instead of talking about writing it. To tell people they matter while they’re here to hear it.
I don’t know if this is wisdom.
I think it’s simply paying attention.
And maybe that is what this next chapter of life is inviting all of us to do.
Not to live bigger.
But to live more awake.
A question for you...
Has growing older changed what you notice about an ordinary day? I’d love to hear what has become more precious to you — and what you’re trying not to take for granted anymore.
Share your thoughts in the comments below. Every response I read. Every one matters.