October 2026 | Issue No. 003 · 6 minute read
There are days when I can tell you exactly what I did and still have the strange feeling that I somehow missed most of it.
I answered emails. Made coffee. Put something away and later couldn’t remember where I had put it. Walked into a room with a perfectly clear purpose, only to arrive and discover that apparently the purpose had decided not to come with me.
A fairly ordinary day.
And maybe that is part of the problem.
We tend to think ordinary things don’t require much attention.
The remarkable things get it automatically.
A spectacular sunset.
Unexpected good news.
A trip somewhere new.
A conversation we weren’t expecting.
But most of life isn’t spectacular.
Most of it happens while we’re doing things we’ve done many times before.
Making breakfast.
Driving familiar roads.
Rolling out the yoga mat.
Walking past the meditation seat in the corner.
Grabbing the yoga bag on the way out the door.
Talking to people we know well.
Waiting for the kettle.
None of it seems particularly noteworthy.
Until, occasionally, we actually notice it.
Maybe Boring Isn’t the Problem
I recently read about an interesting idea around learning and practice.
The premise was simple: repeating something over and over doesn’t necessarily mean we are learning from it. What makes the difference is noticing what happens along the way.
Try something.
Pay attention.
Make a small adjustment.
Try again.
The examples were about creativity and developing a skill, but I found myself thinking less about becoming better at something and more about how easily we move through ordinary life without really seeing much of it.
How much do we repeat without noticing?
We can have nearly the same morning ten times and barely register it.
We can walk a familiar route while spending the entire time thinking about where we need to be afterward.
We can unroll the yoga mat and realize halfway through that our body has been practising while our mind has been writing tomorrow’s list.
And anyone who has ever sat down to meditate knows that deciding to pay attention and actually paying attention are two rather different things.
Sometimes we aren’t bored because nothing is happening.
Sometimes we’ve simply decided we already know what’s there.
The Familiar Becomes Invisible
There is something we are particularly good at doing: turning familiar things into background scenery.
The first time you hear a strange noise in the house, you investigate.
Three weeks later, apparently that noise just lives there now.
We adjust.
Which is useful.
Imagine having to rediscover the toaster every morning.
But familiarity can also make things disappear.
The tree outside the window.
The neighbour who always waves.
The meditation seat that has become part of the furniture.
The bolster you reach for without thinking because you already know exactly where you like it.
The way the light has started changing earlier in the evening.
A particular expression on someone’s face.
The fact that something which used to be difficult has quietly become easier.
None of these has to become a profound moment.
That’s important.
Not everything we notice has to teach us something.
Sometimes noticing is simply noticing.
Attention Has Competition
Of course, there is quite a lot competing for our attention.
Phones are the obvious example, but I think they sometimes take more than their fair share of the blame.
What distracts us isn’t always on a screen.
Sometimes it’s a conversation we’re replaying.
Something we haven’t decided.
Something we want to happen.
Something we don’t want to happen.
Something we should probably remember before Thursday.
The body can be sitting at the kitchen table while the mind is several days ahead, six months behind, or having an entirely imaginary conversation with someone who isn’t even there.
No wonder the toast goes cold.
I don’t think the answer is to somehow become perfectly present.
I’m not sure I would even want to be.
Thinking ahead is useful.
Remembering matters.
Planning matters.
Daydreaming can be wonderful.
The mind wanders because that is one of the things minds do.
Perhaps the more interesting question is simply:
Where has my attention been spending most of its time lately?
We Tend to Find What We’re Looking For
Attention can become a habit.
If something is worrying us, we start noticing everything connected to the worry.
If we’re waiting for an answer, we notice every possible sign that the answer might be coming.
If something annoys us, we can become remarkably efficient at finding fresh examples of exactly that thing.
And if you have ever decided you might like a particular car, coat or pair of shoes, you may suddenly discover that apparently everyone else has one too.
They were probably there before.
You just weren’t looking for them.
That doesn’t mean we should ignore difficult things or cover every uncomfortable experience with something cheerful.
Sometimes something really is irritating.
Sometimes something needs our attention.
Sometimes the squeaky wheel is, in fact, squeaky.
But it is interesting to notice where our attention goes automatically.
Because while we are looking in one direction, other things continue happening outside the frame.
The Photograph We Didn’t Take
Think about taking a photograph.
We choose what goes inside the picture.
But making that choice also means leaving something outside it.
Attention works a little like that.
We frame part of an experience.
The problem.
The deadline.
The thing that went wrong.
The thing we’re waiting for.
And those things may absolutely deserve to be in the picture.
But they are rarely the whole picture.
There may also have been a good cup of coffee.
Someone made us laugh.
We finally finished something that had been hanging around for weeks.
The dog was delighted about something completely unimportant.
The weather changed.
Someone checked in.
Dinner turned out surprisingly well.
During yoga, perhaps you noticed that one side of your body felt completely different from the other.
Or you sat quietly for a few minutes and discovered that the mind you thought needed calming was simply busy.
None of those things cancels out what is difficult.
They are simply also true.
Perhaps paying attention isn’t about replacing one picture with a better one.
Maybe it’s simply about widening the frame.
You Don’t Have to Turn It Into Anything
This may be the part I like most.
We are often encouraged to notice things so we can improve them.
Track the habit.
Measure the result.
Make an adjustment.
Become a slightly more efficient version of ourselves by next Tuesday.
There is certainly a place for that.
But attention doesn’t always need an agenda.
You can notice something without fixing it.
You can discover that you’re tired without immediately creating a new sleep routine.
You can notice you’ve been rushing.
You can realize that something you thought you enjoyed doesn’t interest you quite as much anymore.
You can notice that someone seems happier.
Or quieter.
Or that you are.
You can notice that the leaves have started to change.
And then simply carry on with your day.
Not every observation has to become a project.
A Very Small Practice
If you practise yoga or meditation, there is an easy way to experiment with this without adding another item to your day.
Before you begin, notice one thing.
That’s all.
Maybe it’s your breath.
Maybe it’s the feeling of your feet on the floor.
Maybe it’s where your body makes contact with the bolster or meditation seat.
Maybe it’s simply the fact that you nearly didn’t practise today.
And if your attention wanders five seconds later, that isn’t a failed exercise.
You noticed that too.
The same idea works outside yoga or meditation.
Standing in the kitchen.
Walking to the car.
Sitting with someone.
Waiting in line.
We don’t have to sustain perfect attention.
We can simply return to it occasionally.
What Might You Notice?
Perhaps paying attention doesn’t have to become another thing to do correctly.
You don’t need twenty quiet minutes, a perfectly clear mind or an exceptionally attractive mug of tea.
You can simply become curious.
What has been taking a lot of my attention lately?
What have I noticed because I’ve been paying attention?
What has become so familiar that I barely see it anymore?
What might have been happening while I was looking somewhere else?
The answers may not be particularly significant.
You may discover you’ve been thinking about work too much.
Or watching the squirrels dismantle your garden.
Or worrying about something you can’t solve today.
You might realize you always rush through the nicest part of your morning.
You might notice that someone has been doing something kind for you so regularly that it has become almost invisible.
Or perhaps nothing in particular comes up.
That’s fine too.
This isn’t a test of how observant we are.
It is simply an invitation to look again.
This Month’s Life Note
If you would like to explore the idea a little further, I’ve created a simple reflection to accompany this month’s Journal.
Life Note No. 003 — What Are You Noticing? offers four questions about where your attention has been going, what you’ve been noticing, what may have faded into the background and what you might like to notice a little more.
There is nothing to solve and nothing you need to change.
You can print the Life Note and write by hand, or use the fillable version to type directly into it on your computer or tablet.
Download Life Note No. 003 — What Are You Noticing?
Before You Go...
Life doesn’t always announce the moments worth noticing.
Most of the time there is no music playing in the background and no helpful narrator saying, “Pay attention. This bit matters.”
It looks remarkably similar to every other Tuesday.
And maybe that’s the interesting part.
We don’t have to make ordinary life extraordinary.
Perhaps we only need to remember that ordinary doesn’t mean empty.
There is always more happening than we can take in.
So now and then, it might be worth asking:
What has my attention?
And what else is here?