“The range of what we think and do is limited by what we fail to notice. And because we fail to notice that we fail to notice, there is little we can do to change; until we notice how failing to notice shapes our thoughts and deeds.”
R. D. Laing
There was a time when I treated the perpetual case of the disappearing sock as a quirk of domestic life. Every time laundry day left a sock without its mate, I’d confidently place it in the “awaiting reunion” drawer, half-convinced that its pair would eventually wander back from its adventurous detour.
Then one day, while shuffling through a similar mental drawer filled with the forgotten, I stumbled upon a quote by R. D. Laing: “The range of what we think and do is limited by what we fail to notice. And because we fail to notice that we fail to notice, there is little we can do to change; until we notice how failing to notice shapes our thoughts and deeds.”
Suddenly, it wasn’t just about my socks anymore. It was about all the things I had failed to notice: the expiration date on the milk, that one traffic sign on my drive to my son’s school, and my wife’s radiant complexion from her new skincare treatment (which she had been subtly hinting about for weeks).
You see, life is much like a game of “Where’s Waldo?” but instead of trying to find a man in a striped shirt, we’re trying to find meaning, purpose, and yes, sometimes that damn missing sock.
R. D. Laing’s quote can be equated to not realizing you’ve been driving with the handbrake on until someone points it out. There you were, wondering why life felt so strenuous, when all along, you just weren’t noticing the obvious.
It’s nearly laughable how many unseen factors influence our daily lives. It’s akin to ignoring a squeaky floorboard in your hallway until that one night when you’re trying to tiptoe silently so as not to wake the sleeping household. Once you’re aware of it, every step becomes a calculated dance. In the same way, once something captures our attention, it transforms from an inconspicuous shadow into a glaring spotlight.
So, let’s make a pact. Starting now, let’s try to notice more, starting with the simple things. Notice the sound of rain, the color of your neighbor’s new car (how did you miss that glaring neon green?), and yes, even the silent plea of the solitary sock.
Because, as it turns out, the wonders of life are not in the big moments, but in the tiny things we often fail to notice. And the first step to a richer life? Noticing that we need to start noticing.
And if anyone finds that pair to my favorite flamingo-patterned sock, do let me know.
