The Invisible Things

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Antoine de Saint-Exupéry – The Little Prince

If the essential things are invisible, does that mean that the things that are visible are unimportant? Or less important? That’s a tough sell today.

If true, it puts a great deal of life into a clearer perspective. Much of how we live our lives and express ourselves, by this measure, would be deemed unimportant.

The key question is what, then, is important?

I keep coming back to people. Not those who see us but those we truly see. The ones we interact with on a daily basis, that we care about, that we feed in to, that we love and nurture and journey with.

Then it is the people that we have loose connections with, how we treat those who make our coffee, or serve us lunch, or those trying to park in the parking space next to us.

Then it is the wider world around us. The people we will never meet who are impacted by how we live, the animals that call this planet their home too, and the planet that sustains our life, both of which we are inter-connected to.

These are the important things, the invisible things, the generous things. How we relate to them and our attitude towards them cannot be seen because it comes from within each of us.

The rest of life, the external stuff that people do see, is unimportant in comparison.

Just Be Here

It seems wild to me that this is a thing now. But putting your phone down is legitimately an act of generosity. And it probably needs to be more than just down, but away, somewhere out of sight. The mere presence of it makes the quality of conversation lower, even if you’re not looking at or touching your phone.

Companies pay billions of dollars to capture your attention, and instead, you are saying no to them and choosing to give it to just one person, for this moment right now. What a gift.

So, put it away for a bit. Give your full attention to someone else, or even yourself. This is a remarkable thing to offer.

It quietly says:
“You matter.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’d rather be here with you than somewhere else.”

Honestly, if someone said that out loud to me, I’d either feel deeply valued or incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe both, depending on the person. Such is the power of attention.

It doesn’t have to be an hour. Start with five minutes.

Ignore the desire to:

…check the notification.
…search the random fact.
…scroll to see what other people are eating.

Just be there.

Because in a distracted world, attention might be the most generous thing you have to give.

Generosity is Inefficient

I love efficiency. Especially with time. I love to kill two birds with one stone (metaphorically speaking). Whether that’s by listening to podcasts in the gym, or while driving, or while walking, or if it is by working in a café (which is actually three birds – coffee, work and atmosphere). There are important things, that I love to do, which, if I can do them at the same time as something else, then I feel like I am winning at life.

Cal Newport, author of Deep Work, and many other people, suggest that multitasking doesn’t exist. We might think that we are doing two or more things at once, but in reality, we are switching between tasks and giving nothing our full attention. That might be fine for listening to podcasts whilst working out, but for creative work, or work that requires some deep thought then we are not giving it our best. It feels efficient, but it is the opposite of that.

In my efficiency drive, I miss things in the periphery. I miss down time. I miss the stress behind the slack message from my colleague. I miss the sub-text behind what my child just said. I miss the gap that is growing between me and my wife. I miss how I am feeling.

It takes some “inefficiency” to begin to catch what I am missing. It takes some space, which requires consciously not doing a task, or listening to a thing, or worrying about an upcoming commitment.

This kind of inefficiency is generous – to those around us and to ourselves. The generosity of presence.