Stop & Savor
There is the concept of autumn in my mind and then there is the reality of it.
Each year, I notice myself enjoying the changing colors but waiting for the day that fall comes in full force: when every deciduous tree is dressed in red, orange, and yellow and the world is magically painted. Of course, this day never comes. A street may be lined with bright red while the next has only smatterings of yellow. One neighborhood may be entirely in the throes of autumn while the next seems to still be making its way out of summer. Each plant has its own timeline. Before I know it, the ratio of trees reduced to bare sticks is rising steadily while I await an imaginary moment of complete wonder.
I’m not greedy; it’s that a part of me believes that this precious feeling of wonder is not accessible unless the wondrous thing is perfect. (This may sound dramatic, but when we follow the threads of our thoughts all the way to our unconscious beliefs, they usually are dramatic. It helps to look them in the eye.)
Can we appreciate one wiggling leaf? The bursts of color on a tree mid-transformation?
Can we shift our stride slightly out of our way so that with each step we might hear the crunch of dry leaves under our feet?
Can we let our gaze land on a beautiful scene for a little while longer, gratefully taking hold of that temporary moment rather than waiting for an ideal one to take hold of us?
How often do we pause to soak in what is beautiful, or serene, or special? It takes 15 seconds of lingering in appreciation for a pleasant experience to imprint in our brains — unlike unpleasant experiences, which make lasting impressions right away. So is the slow unfolding of fall Not Wondrous Enough, or do I simply need to stop and savor? I like to think the latter.
Reminders to practice gratitude can feel empty when we are in the midst of hardships big and small; it may seem too simple or to be missing the point, but this encouragement is far from trite. Gratitude is not about ignoring pain but rather tapping into the abundance hidden inside of seemingly small wonders. When practiced regularly, gratitude fundamentally changes how we experience things. We cannot directly alter how we feel, but we can practice and cultivate gratitude with our attention by noticing, lingering, savoring, and reciprocating. With gratitude, scarcity gives way to plenty — or at least co-exists more gently with it.
With gratitude, I find that wonder is more within reach than I had imagined. Perhaps it is for you, too. How will you stop and savor today?
