noticing

Notice the glory

by Steve Brock on May 8, 2012

I finally saw the film, Tree of Life, on video.

I’m not sure I fully understand it. I could go online and look for reviews and clarification but I don’t want to. I understand enough, I think (after watching key scenes a second time which made a huge difference). Anything more would likely inform but also possibly disappoint.

If you haven’t seen it, be aware that it isn’t quite as opaque as say, “2001 – A Space Odyssey” but it is highly symbolic and hard to fathom at times. Yet it is stunningly beautiful and the acting of both adults and youth is spot on (or so it seems to me).

At its heart is this line:

“There are two ways in life, the way of nature and the way of grace.”

The former is exemplified by the father in the movie, played by Brad Pitt, who looks out for himself, seeks to get ahead and teaches his sons to be tough and to do whatever it takes to succeed.

The mother in the film chooses the way of grace, a life of sacrifice, care and love that does not seek its own but the best for others.

I will have to spoil the story here to get to my point, so if you haven’t seen the movie and want to, read no further.

Near the end of the movie, the father is brought to a point of crisis when he loses his job. With the loss comes the awareness that his whole approach to life – the way of nature – has failed him.

This is the voiceover at that point: “I wanted to be loved because I was brave. A big man. I’m nothing. Nothing. The glory around us. Trees. Birds. I left in shame (Note: I’m not actually sure about that line even after reviewing it a half dozen times). I dishonored it all and didn’t notice the glory. A foolish man.”

He comes to the way of grace by realizing that his own attempts at success, the way of nature, haven’t worked. But in his words I find something painfully familiar: “I dishonored it all and didn’t notice the glory.”

How often do we do the same in our own daily lives? We miss “the glory around us.” We simply don’t notice it.

I travel in part to see that glory, to refresh eyes that have become so accustomed to the glory all around me that I fail to appreciate or even be aware of it. In the unfamiliarity of a new place, I see the familiar anew. And when I do, I realize, at least in part, the glory around me.

So here’s my question for me and for you: If you can’t immediately travel, what can you do this day – wait no longer – to notice the glory? Trees. Birds. Loved ones. The very breath you take this moment. What will it be?

Choose grace.

Notice the glory.

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Media, marketing and meaningful travel – Part 2 1/2

by Steve Brock on October 8, 2011

Why Part 2 ½? Because this isn’t a new thought, but clarification of the last one.

One of the benefits of travel is that it helps change your perspective. You don’t have to fly halfway around the world for this to occur. Sometimes walking down the corridor to talk to a colleague in his cubicle or crossing the street to catch up with a neighbor in front of her home (as opposed to yours) changes how you see and think about the world.

In short, small changes of place can lead to big changes in perspective.

What I was reminded of a few days ago is that people serve the same function. They help us recall what we know but have forgotten or provide insights that connect the dots in ways we may have missed ourselves.

Earlier this week, I had lunch with my friend Al who was commenting on Part 1 and Part 2 of Media, Marketing and Meaningful Travel. I jumped in by summarizing how they were two opposing thoughts; fasting from media and marketing impressions on the one hand, and embracing those same impressions with a heightened sense of awareness on the other.

I expected Al to agree. After all, that’s what friends do. They tell you what you want to hear, right?

Not good friends. Good friends tell you what you need to hear.

In this case, Al pointed out that what I perceived to be opposites were in fact complimentary. Here’s why.

In order to do the latter – notice certain things like the soap dish or wallpaper in my hotel room – you have to practice the former: You have to intentionally shut down your intake or else you simply can’t absorb it all.

He’s absolutely right. We cannot sustain for long a constant influx of sensory stimulation or at least do so in a way that enables us to focus. We have to restrict the intake of a vast number of things in order to truly observe and pay attention to a few things.

We do this automatically in daily life by forming habits and routines. This is why we rarely notice what lies along a familiar route to work or school. It has become background scenery out of necessity. When you’re in a new location, however, and everything is novel, you have to intentionally choose what you will notice. You probably don’t even notice that this is, in fact, how we notice.

When you do pay attention to something, it adds value to what you see but more importantly, it teaches you how to see in a new way. Do this enough, and pretty soon you start discovering that wonder is all around you but too often, simply overlooked.

All of this is familiar territory and something I not only know, but tell others about all the time.

Except when I forget it myself.

At such times, I have to be reminded – by travel or the words of a good friend – of what is important but too often lost amidst the noise and busyness of everyday life.

*****

If you haven’t already read them, here are links to Part 1 and Part 2 of this series.

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Media, marketing and meaningful travel – Part 2

by Steve Brock on October 3, 2011

 Last time we looked at the idea of a media fast as a means of dealing with all the marketing impressions that assault us daily. Now let’s explore another approach I find particularly useful while traveling, especially on a business trip.

I’ll call this a reverse fast. Here, I don’t flee from all the impressions but do the opposite: I pay more attention. You have to be selective, of course, or your brains will explode out your ears and eyes, a messy prospect.

If you limit what you notice, this can be an enlightening exercise. For example, instead of glossing over one of the large displays at an airport or ignoring the ads on the metro, I’ll actually read them. I’ll observe small things like the photography or the model’s expression, the tagline, font or the offer.

Part of it is professional curiosity since I work in marketing, but mostly it is to wonder what I might find within the things I normally ignore.

Even more than ads, I will occasionally make the conscious effort to pay better attention to my surroundings on a trip, particularly a business trip, where I normally am on autopilot, consumed with thoughts about work and the meetings I’m either going to or coming from.

In these moments of awareness, I’ll note the signage in the hotel, the way the light filters through the atrium at the client’s office, the loneliness in the voice of the rental car agent, or the variance of accents in overheard conversations.

On a recent business trip, two things stood out that would never have registered had I not been paying attention.

First, as the plane leaving home took off, I consciously recognized that I was flying. Flying. A wingless, heavier-than-air human being (over a hundred of us, actually) was soaring through the clouds 37,000 feet above the ground. Remarkable.

Stop and think about that the next time you’re on a flight. You will either be struck by the wonder of it or shrug and move on to more important considerations such as if they are still serving those little pretzel bags along with the beverages.

In a world filled with products and ads, sometimes appreciating something as simple as a soap dish can make all the difference...

Second, I noted small details about my hotel room from the way the A/C worked to the wallpaper patterns to the soap dish in the bathroom. In all my travels, I’ve never beheld a soap dish that drains so well. This one does so by having a sieve-like dish sitting on a mating bowl to catch the water, a perfect blend of form and function.

These were all small things that don’t seem to matter.

Only they do.

When we notice them.

The documentary, The Greatest Movie Ever Sold, which sparked this reflection, highlighted the downsides of product placement and, by extension, products themselves. It noted how marketers create the sense of need for these products and intentionally get us to feel badly if we don’t purchase them and possess them.

But products aren’t inherently bad (well, most of them…I’m still trying to figure out the raison d’etre of Velveeta). The problem is when they possess us rather than we possess them. And what I’m finding through paying attention to the details I normally ignore is that I don’t have to even possess them. As with the soap dish, I can acknowledge and even appreciate an object in passing, taking a brief moment to discern and enjoy the hidden beauty in its design or functionality.

I’ll admit, I don’t go out of my way to do this at home or even on pleasure trips like I should. Too many other distractions compete for my awareness. But on business trips, paying attention to the details has its own rewards. It makes what is otherwise a blur of business and pure logistics into something more.

Perhaps even something of wonder.

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If you haven’t already, view Part 1 of Media, Marketing and Meaningful Travel.

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Nothing is small

by Steve Brock March 22, 2011

Some of the most meaningful experiences on a trip occur in small moments…if we will only notice them and realize their source.

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A long way back

by Steve Brock March 18, 2011

Business travel tends to be all business. But sometimes just noticing the actions of others can completely change your own perspective…and make both your trip and your life more meaningful.

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