Noticing & Naming: A Monthly Practice

Listening to my gut, unexpected tulips, and choosing the gentler way

Hello and welcome in! “Noticing & Naming” is a new series where I share a reflection about the previous month. I’m considering this post a chance to practice paying attention to my life and putting the often hidden, but deeply true, things into words. I hope this practice gives you just a little more language for your own life. 

After a couple of big work deadlines followed by back-to-back trips, I’m bringing you this March reflection (written mostly at the airport) after we’ve already made significant headway into April. Wherever today finds you, I hope you can take a moment to notice what’s happening around and inside of you and to name the things that need tending. 

March brought family birthdays and visiting grandparents, dog sitting and bike rides, hikes and homemade pies, busy weeks and a quiet Easter. As I reflected on the past month, I found four things I noticed, three things I named, and three quotes that stuck with me. Let’s get started. 

Four Things I Noticed:

I’m trying to pay attention to the world around me and to the details of my days. Sometimes these observations may lead to bigger realizations, but other times, the act of noticing is enough. Here are four things I noticed in March:

1. Whether it’s blasting music in my car or turning the volume way up on my headphones, sometimes being surrounded by music is exactly what I need. The immersion feels soothing and grounding, and it’s amazing how quickly a couple of good songs can bring me back to feeling like myself. 

2. I noticed hesitation around an invitation last month. I was invited to do something I enjoy with people I enjoy, and I wanted to say yes. I wanted to connect with those people, and I wanted to be a part of the thing. But every time I picked up my phone to respond, I hesitated. So I put it off for a few days (naturally). I didn’t fully understand the hesitation, so I almost said yes just to get the decision over with. But at the last second, I decided to listen to my gut instead of pushing through it, and I declined. I can see now that that was the right choice for me. (See No. 1 below.)

3. There are tulips growing in our front yard. But they’re not in a flower bed. No, nothing as intentional and structured as that. They popped up all of a sudden—a buffet of springtime colors—right in the middle of the grass. Isaac called me out to the front steps one morning to look at them because more colors had appeared overnight. They’re not where they should be, but they still delighted us, and I promptly cut a few stems and put them in bud vases on the kitchen table. Beauty is like that, isn’t it? It has a tendency to pop up where we least expect it and shake us out of our routines, if only for a moment. 

4. My grandpa has mischievous eyes and the absolute best laugh. As I sat at my grandparents’ kitchen table last month, we got Grandpa talking about what it was like to grow up on his family’s farm in Illinois with fruit trees, big gardens, cows, and chickens. He’d start telling a story that teetered between plausible and far-fetched (e.g. driving a stick shift in the third grade or riding a too-big-for-him bike with wooden wheels), and he’d say it deadpan, his eyes locked on mine. Then he’d look away and crack a bright, wide smile, his blue-gray eyes sparkling, his shoulders bouncing slightly as he laughed—a full, hearty laugh. I really love that laugh. 

One of our front yard tulips, adding a little beauty wherever it pleases.

Laughing with Grandpa, or Papa W. as we sometimes call him.

A photo of my grandpa from January 1961.

Three Things I Named: 

I have a loud internal life, and naming what’s going on the inside helps to quiet things down. When we can put thoughts and emotions into words, fear begins to lose its power, next steps come into focus, and we realize that we’re not actually alone. Here are three things I named last month:

1. I need to practice listening to my gut. This is actually something my therapist named for me. She pointed out that my tendency is to silence my gut instinct, and it’s true. I’m really adept at talking myself in, out, and around things. She encouraged me to practice listening to my gut, that deep inner knowing, and to make an intentional effort to exercise that muscle. Our gut is a different kind of knowing than linear, logical thought. It’s pulling from different sources that are sometimes harder to make sense of in the moment. But it’s important information, and I want to try to lean in to listening to everything my mind and body have to tell me. This doesn’t mean that my gut is the only source of wisdom or that it’s always right, but for me, practicing listening to my instincts is a way of leaning back toward the center. It’s a way of trusting myself and trusting God to work in me. And sometimes that means paying attention to my hesitation and saying no to a thing—even when I don’t fully understand why—and trusting that clarity will come in time.

2. Sometimes doing the life-giving thing takes more effort. We all know this to be true, but I needed to name it again last month. At the end of a busy weekend, I found myself wanting to collapse on the couch. I just wanted to curl into a ball, cover myself with a blanket, and turn off my brain. But Isaac suggested having a fire pit, and the weather was too nice to pass up. It felt like more work at the time, but by the end of the night, I felt so much more refreshed. The fresh air and the smell of the smoke, the conversations and the comfortable silence all made me feel more like myself. The small effort paid off. 

3. I can choose the gentler way just because it’s the gentler way. I can go to the store that’s a little bit further away because the route has less construction and the drive is more enjoyable. I can take my time putting away my weights after barre class instead of rushing around and bumping into people, even if it means I’m the last one out of the studio. I can change plans and ask a friend to meet at a different coffee shop in order to avoid the March Madness crowds. It’s not always possible to do the calm, peaceful thing, but when it is, why wouldn’t I choose to be just a little bit gentler, just a little bit kinder, to myself? Efficiency doesn’t always have to be my highest value. 

Questions for Your Practice:

1. Do you tend to listen to your gut? Why or why not? What would it look like for you to practice trusting yourself this month? 

2. Where have you been settling for rest that isn’t truly restful? What’s something that takes a little more effort upfront but ultimately helps you feel more like yourself? 

3. Even if it’s less efficient, is there one small thing you can do to be gentler with yourself this week?  

Words That Resonated:

In an effort to give us more language for our lives, here are three quotes that stuck with me last month. They’re all from the same book this time around both because Susan Cain’s words really resonated and because I’m still in the middle of my other current reads.

Bittersweet by Susan Cain:

“Upbeat tunes make us want to dance around our kitchens and invite friends for dinner. But it’s sad music that makes us want to touch the sky.” 

“If we could honor sadness a little more, maybe we could see it—rather than enforced smiles and righteous outrage—as the bridge we need to connect with each other. We could remember that no matter how distasteful we might find someone’s opinions, no matter how radiant, or fierce, someone may appear, they have suffered, or they will.” 

“But longing is momentum in disguise: It’s active, not passive; touched with the creative, the tender, and the divine. We long for something, or someone. We reach for it, move toward it. The word longing derives from the Old English langian, meaning ‘to grow long,’ and the German langen—to reach, to extend. The word yearning is linguistically associated with hunger and thirst, but also desire. In Hebrew, it comes from the same root as the word for passion.

The place you suffer, in other words, is the same place you care profoundly—care enough to act.”

“But it’s sad music that makes us want to touch the sky.” —Susan Cain

Thanks for reading this month’s practice. I hope the rest of April is a time of learning to listen to your gut, stumbling upon unexpected beauty, and choosing the gentler way whenever possible.