What does it mean that this is only my second day writing in the month of January? Am I not appreciative enough of the numerous ordinary wonders throughout my life? Have I become entrenched in my own mundaneness and semi-unnecessary worry? Have I forgotten to recognize the glimmer and ingenuity that outlines and defines it all?I'm afraid the answer is probably yes. Darn it. I have put on the myopic dust-laden gaze and have misplaced my magic spectacles... If I would just take pause to see it, voice the awe, stop shuffling through these electric moments and joys, then the matte side of ordinary would not turn up for me.

So, to remind me to counteract the spotty path of unnotice I've been following the last month or more, a poem by Alice Walker:

We Alone

We alone can devalue gold
by not caring
if it falls or rises
in the marketplace.
Whereever there is gold
there is a chain, you know,
and if your chain
is gold
so much the worse
for you.

Feathers, shells
and sea-shaped stones
are all as rare.

This could be our revolution:
To love what is plentiful
as much as
what is scarce.