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“I’ve begun a notebook of “things I’ve noticed” because in trauma your world shrinks to a tiny pinpoint. On my run today, I noticed a vole, the breeze cutting through the humidity, and a smiling dog. It felt good to laugh.” – May 30, 2013

You see that photo of the banana wagon? Yep. It was good to laugh.

For the past two-ish years, I’ve had the privilege of working alongside people who go and carve out space for light in places of darkness, exploitation, despair, and disease. They do not return to square one unchanged. What they have seen, smelled, and felt – what they bear witness to in the range of human suffering and overcoming – either drives them towards deeper authenticity or into shallow self-protected waters.

We always hope for “deeper authenticity” because therein lies life.

And I’ve learned so much about processing hard stuff with them. About calling something by its truest name whether it causes discomfort, shame, fear, or grief. There is nothing that should not be named…as long as it is done in truth with love and respect.

Otherwise, we wallow in secret grieving. Shame. Fear.

What hobbles our hope is not exposed when keeping secrets or keeping up appearances. 

Though my time for naming – in truth – the experiences that have caused my flight and fear, I have stumbled upon a truest most healing of practices.

The notebook. List-making. Purposeful private processing.

I’ve been trembly for months, brave for only a few, and healing for short days. The notebook of “What I noticed” began on a late afternoon run May 25, 2013. I saw a vole (eek!) race across the path. It shook me out of my grief-soaked ruminations.

And I screamed like a 5-year old city girl.

Then I noticed the abundance of wildflowers waving up the ravine to my left and the hellos and high fives of fellow runners. People laughed and life moved on.

A smiling dog and proud owner convinced me that this moment needed recording.

I need remembering. Not only the tough stuff, but the grace points along the way.

My guess is, in your daily living and ebb and flow of hope and harrow, reminders of the sweet smell of plowed earth, abundance of good company…smiling Boston terriers and tiny kids with giant balloons aloft are memories worth recording and savoring.

You’ll find a tiny sampling of “what I’ve noticed” below:

• finally rain that whips the tree in front of my patio and sends the sweetest freshest breeze into my oft-humid home
• a team of crossfit folks getting after it in the park and moving past the limits of what they thought of themselves
• that kid strumming a basketball beat as he runs dribbling through the courtyard (he’s got mad skills)
• too many greens to count
• a wasp/mud dauber making a home with the mud from my basil pot
• sidewalk chalk in the grass
• my own laughter when the sink sprayer backfired and hit me square in the face
• a spider dropping and falling and climbing to create a home
• feeling of family with new-old friends
• two little guys winging around the parking lot on a red motorized scooter – giggling like they were completely free
• the sly mewing cat across the fence on the nature trail
• babies with kicking feet and protective older brothers
• the fish in the rain culvert
• a fleeting joy
• how hard it can be to get out of bed (some days leave little reward except a return to sweet sleep)
• most days offer something in the way of redemption and shenanigans
• I noticed that I want to be strong again-to lay this burden down, to seek justice, to return to freedom and that I can do that right now regardless of any other voice
• history creates a moment of truth at the intersection of motive, decision, & action: that’s history, anything less is manipulative spin
• one can never be completely lonely with birdsong and train whistles in the wind
• my swath of purple hair is fading, dang it
• the lizard on the drain pipe singing for the ladies
• Truth does not require consensus or validation

I don’t know what would make your list, but if you find yourself deluged by the callousness of human activity in the world or the destruction by the wind, I invite you to record the little things that make up your big life…what you’ve noticed.

Further on. Further up, friends.

Consider “Timshel” from Mumford & Sons,

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Cold is the water

It freezes your already cold mind

Already cold, cold mind

And death is at your doorstep

And it will steal your innocence

But it will not steal your substance

But you are not alone in this

And you are not alone in this

As brothers we will stand and we’ll hold your hand

Hold your hand

And you are the mother

The mother of your baby child

The one to whom you gave life

And you have your choices

And these are what make man great

His ladder to the stars

But you are not alone in this

And you are not alone in this

As brothers we will stand and we’ll hold your hand

Hold your hand

And I will tell the night

Whisper, “Lose your sight”

But I can’t move the mountains for you