Today I didn’t notice much because I was anxious. It’s difficult to become intrigued by a breadcrumb, or the moving pattern of a leaf, or a stranger beside you on the train, when all of your focus is encompassed by the roil of your gut, the clench in your chest, the chill that settles on your skin.
In short, it’s easy to become blind to the things that surround you - whether ordinary, or extraordinary - when you’re distracted by what’s within.
But I guess that’s a juxtaposition in itself, really. Perhaps the collision of two things that don’t belong together in my day was actually me. The girl who kicked at a leaf as she walked to the station, but who didn’t see the leaf at all.
Think about your day today before you got to the class. Can you think of something interesting, unusual, memorable, strange that happened? A collision of two things that don’t belong together? Something quietly beautiful or unsettling?