I can be in my own bubble.
Very much in my own world.
Quiet. Mindful. Doing my thing.
But I notice things.
Little things. Human things. The small details most people pass over.
I’m curious about people. Not in a prying way. I actually hate when people do that to me, especially when we’ve just met. I don’t like being interrogated. If you want to talk about yourself, go ahead. If you don’t, that’s fine too. I won’t pull it out of you.
And yet, somehow, that’s exactly what happens.
I ask the simplest questions.
“How was your day.”
And suddenly I’m holding someone’s deepest worry. Their family troubles. Their quiet heartbreak. Their fear. Their exhaustion. Their story.
I don’t mind it. I never have.
I think it’s because I’m not really curious about people’s secrets. I’m curious about their inner world. The way they think. The way they see life. What sets them on fire. What scares them. What they believe in. What they are pretending not to care about.
That’s what interests me.
I notice the contradictions too. The cognitive dissonance. And yes, we all have it. Every single one of us.
I notice how we say we want world peace, but we cheer for leaders who wage war.
How we talk about the love of God, the love of Jesus, a Jesus who walked with the poor, the sick, the forgotten, and yet we carry so much contempt for the poor, the disabled, the mentally ill. As if suffering is a moral defect. As if being unlucky in life is a personal failure.
I notice how easily we judge people for their shortcomings, but rarely turn that same lens inward. How we demand grace for ourselves and discipline for everyone else.
I notice how some people can be incredibly intelligent, sharp, analytical, brilliant even, and yet have no idea that in the real world, water has to be paid for in order to run in your house. That life costs. That survival is not automatic for everyone.
I notice how we praise kindness in theory, but recoil from it in practice.
How we admire compassion, but avoid the inconvenient forms of it.
How we love the idea of humanity, but struggle with actual humans.
And I notice how many of us are just trying.
Trying to be better.
Trying to make sense of things.
Trying to hold our lives together without letting the cracks show too much.
Yes, I notice little things like that.
Not to judge.
Not to feel superior.
Just because I can’t help it.
I watch. I listen. I wonder. I connect dots. I sit with the discomfort of it all.
And sometimes I think the world would be a little gentler if more of us slowed down enough to notice too.
Not just what people say.
But what they live.
Not just what they believe.
But what they practice.
The little things tell the biggest stories.
And I can’t stop noticing them.
Until next time,
Xoxo,
JP
