You ever had that experience where you’re looking right at something and yet you miss what’s right in front of your face? 

Tonight I made a crazy jumble of fresh ingredients into a colorful stir-fry. The main color of which was green from this fresh spinach leaves that I’ve added at the last moment. But when I tried to describe the dish to my children I mentioned everything except for the spinach. But there it was adding life to the quinoa and mushrooms and onion bits in my bowl.

It’s funny how we can just overlook the most apparent of details. Like maybe the fact that your dad is kind of a narcissist, maybe your mom is on the spectrum? Or maybe that your husband of 26 years doesn’t actually love you the way that you want and deserve to be loved. That its all been staring you right in the face your whole life, but you didn’t see it. Not until you were ready to.

I guess that’s the point right? To try to exist everyday in a state where your eyes are open, and your ears are open, and all of the senses that can pass by you don’t go missed.

Walking along the river tonight I noticed a woman staring up into a tree, I couldn’t see what she was seeing, but I could hear it. A bird, a small bird, it sounded like, saying, “Cheery, cheery, cheery.” I didn’t feel compelled to look it up, to learn what species was regaling us down here on earth. I just listened for a second as I walked past, and noted that somewhere 30 or 40 ft above my head, there was a creature reminding me that happiness is where I find it.

And where I find it is where I remember to look and to listen and to smell and to feel. Oh, and definitely to taste. That might be the most important one, for the satisfaction that it brings.