On a pack hike back in June, I carried 19.5kg on my back. Perhaps slightly ambitious, given I'd taken a fall the week before and was still dealing with bruised ribs.
For most of the weekend, my attention was fairly predictable. I was focused on the next step, the next hill, the next place to stop and catch my breath. Hiking with a heavy pack has a way of narrowing your attention. There isn't much room for overthinking when you're concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
But something unexpected happened at almost every rest stop.
I looked up. Not intentionally. I just kept finding my eyes drawn to the sky.
Over the course of the weekend, I noticed the clouds moving overhead. Sometimes they raced across the sky. Other times they drifted so slowly they barely seemed to move at all. But every time I looked, they had changed.
I hadn't set out to watch the clouds. I just happened to notice them, and once I did, I kept looking.
It got me thinking about how often we move through life with our attention fixed on what's immediately in front of us. The next task, the next appointment, the next goal. When we're focused on what needs to happen next, other things happening around us can fade into the background.
Of course, life requires us to plan, prepare and keep moving. Sometimes, putting one foot in front of the other is exactly what we need to do.
But what happens when we're so focused on getting somewhere that we forget to experience where we are?
How often do we look forward to the weekend, the holiday, the next milestone or the end of a particularly busy period, only to arrive there and start thinking about what's next? Do we sometimes treat the present as something to get through on the way to something else?
I know how easy it is to get caught up in the doing. There is always another email to send, another piece of work to finish, another task waiting patiently on tomorrow's list. I can become so focused on making things happen that I don't always stop to notice what is happening.
Camping has a way of pulling me out of my usual rhythm. There are no emails to answer, fewer decisions to make, no constant checking of my calendar or wondering what needs to happen next. And perhaps because of that, I notice more.
The changing light. The warmth of a cup of coffee on a cold morning. Conversations around camp. The sound of birds before everyone else wakes. The movement of the clouds.
None of these things required me to organise them or make them happen. They were already there. I just had to be available enough to notice.
Planning gives us something to look forward to. It helps us make choices, take action and create opportunities for the things that matter to us. But in focusing on what's ahead, we can overlook what's happening along the way.
Perhaps we can become a little more deliberate about where we direct our attention.
The next time you finish a task, arrive somewhere you've been looking forward to, or find yourself moving quickly from one thing to the next, try pausing for a moment.
Ask yourself:
Where is my attention right now? Am I focused on what I'm doing, or already thinking about what comes next?
What is happening around me that I haven't noticed? It might be the conversation you're having, the people you're with, the feeling of the sun on your skin or simply the fact that you've finally sat down.
Is there anything I want to give my attention to before I move on? Perhaps it's listening a little more closely, taking in your surroundings or allowing yourself to enjoy what you've been looking forward to.
You don't need to do this at every opportunity or find something meaningful in every moment. The point isn't to become perfectly present, but to notice where your attention is and decide whether you want to bring it back to the experience you're having.
Sometimes our attention needs to be on what comes next. Planning, preparing and working towards goals matter. But we can miss what's happening now if we're always focused on what's ahead.
I keep coming back to those rest stops on the hike. I was still carrying the pack. The hills hadn't become any smaller, and there was still more walking to do. Looking up didn't change any of that.
But for a moment, my attention moved beyond the weight on my back and the track ahead. I noticed something that had been there all along, changing quietly while I concentrated on getting where I needed to go.
The clouds hadn't appeared because I'd stopped to watch them. They'd been moving across the sky all morning. The difference was that I'd started paying attention.
We can make plans, pursue goals and keep moving towards the things that matter to us. There will always be somewhere else to go and something else to do. The journey isn't only the distance between where we are and where we're trying to get to. Sometimes, it's the clouds moving overhead while we stop to catch our breath.
Perhaps being present for our lives doesn't always require us to change direction. Sometimes, it simply asks us to notice where we are, what is happening around us, and whether we want to give it a little more of our attention.
Sometimes, it simply asks us to look up.
