It’s impossible not to take some things for granted. 

I wear a bracelet everyday. 

Honestly, calling it a bracelet may be a bit of a stretch. It’s a copper colored strip of metal shaped like a “C” — or it was until I wore it every day and put bends in it that make it look almost hexagonal. The only distinguishing feature is that it has a deep grove in the center. It’s made to hold a hair tie on your wrist without digging into your skin. 

I’ve worn it for three years and this morning I realized there’s a pattern on the ends. Looks like it once was leaves, or ivy. 

I didn’t know that. 

The bracelet described early in the article.

I have to wonder if I once knew that. It’s been three or years after all. A Christmas present right at the end of 2016, I’ve worn the bracelet every day since. I know for sure the color’s faded since then, and the shape altered. It’s been through sunshine, showers, heat and cold — anything you can think of it’s been with me. So how have I not noticed a significant part of it? 

Sometimes it’s hard to appreciate what’s directly in front of you. For one thing, it’s impractical. I can’t spend five minutes of everyday looking at a bracelet I’ve been wearing. I’m already late to work more than enough. 

For another, what makes the bracelet more important than anything else? Why not the ring on my finger, or the tattoo in my skin? They serve similar purposes — decorative yet in their own way practical — but which deserves mindful observation? None? All? Do I examine them in turns? 

I understand that I am the only one bothered by my lack of focus. I feel like my attention span has only gotten shorter with age. Somehow I’m always multitasking, or distracted. I let myself get into distractions for so long because it’s the only time I feel I’ve focused on something. I’ve been thinking about mindfulness, of being in the moment a lot recently. 

Still, I’ve never been one to be in the moment, even when my attention could be kept for much longer than this. I find the moment overwhelming, with so much more to focus upon than a distraction holds. Every fiber of the carpet I’m on could be admired, let alone the furniture, the walls, or my own self. It seems to me that mindfulness contains a lot more picking and choosing than gurus let on. 

But does that mean it’s not worth doing? 

I’ll probably always have some regrets in life. It feels like there’s too much to pay attention to, too much around me. The logical part of my mind thinks the engraving on my bracelet might always get missed. 

But I don’t think it’s really about my logical mind. 

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