What does an artist do? What makes her an artist? It’s simple: she pays attention.

I think I’ve been overwhelming myself with ideas, people, information, podcasts, audiobooks— too many different inputs to count. If we want to be creative, we have to shut out the noise, turn off the devices, and start paying attention to the world around us.

Paying attention might be something as simple as going for a walk outside. Head to the park, and be fully present in the moment. 

Paying attention means smiling at the people that walk past you and watching their entire demeanor change. They walk a little taller; they smile back; they pick up their pace. A smile generates energy.

Pay attention when you walk past two women speaking to each other in Spanish. What happens when you say in their native tongue, “Hello! How are you?” They chuckle, both pleased with your willingness to try and humored by your pained accent. 

Paying attention is noticing the difference in sound a few dozen yards can make. One side of a park is dead quiet, while the other—less than a football field’s length away and located close to a busy road—is roaring with the cacophony of motorcycles and sports cars. 

When you pay attention over a few weeks’ time, you notice the subtle change in attire worn by those walking around you as social and health issues become more prevalent. 

Perhaps you’ll notice two small children, obviously strangers and of wildly different cultures, run towards each other on the playground to touch hands, embrace, and play together as if they weren’t the least bit different. Afterwards, you might realize that it’s all invented, the differences we’ve created that cause such terrible strife in our world. 

If you listen closely, you’ll notice the gurgling, deep-throated rumbling of a large vehicle puttering past behind you. You’ll hear the sounds of leaves underfoot and voices across the fence. 

So this is what it’s like to pay attention. This is what we miss with our headphones in and our phones out, heads down and eyes fixed, always distracted and never present. 

We miss the face of a Star Wars alien created by a fortuitous arrangement of knots on a pine tree. 

We miss the sheer exuberance of a child as she first lays eyes on the playground and sprints past. We miss her zigging and zagging and the father’s apology for her child’s excitement. Why does Dad feels guilty? Why should he apologize for his child doing exactly what a child should do?

This is what we miss when we fail to pay attention.

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