Micro-Dosing Attention.

Wake-Up Call #37

By the time I realize I’m being an idiot, it’s over.

We have one car. And, a bike. Not so unusual for Boulder.

People ride everywhere, in any weather. Makes them one part cool, one part, well, psycho.

Christmas Eve morning.

My wife, Stephanie, needs the car. So do I. She’s going further, has two people, and will be out all day. I’m a party of one, with a single meeting.

She gets the wheels, I’m left with the bike. But, my meeting is a 20-mile hump, and it’s cold out.

And, it’s early.

7:45am. So, I order an Uber.

Most mornings, I’m out of bed in the sixes, but I’m dragging a bit today. And, as a general principle, I do not people until after nine. Not fit for human consumption. Especially without coffee.

Minutes later, the Uber arrives.

My destination is 34-minutes away. I don’t want to talk. Telegraph this by popping in my earbuds as I walk from my porch.

The driver’s an older man, late 70s maybe. A bit grizzled, baseball cap pulled down. Can’t tell you more than that, because I’m being very intentional about not paying attention. He seems cool just to drive.

I settle in, turn on some music, and turn my post-dawn, pre-human gaze toward the mountains. But, honestly, it’s mostly down at my phone.

Thirty-four minutes later, he pulls up to the building.

I extract my earbuds to say thanks.

He turns to look me in the eye, with the sweetest smile.

It’s then that I notice his hat says, “Veteran” on side.

I feel shame for having ignored him. Or, noticing or acknowledging him.

Every person deserves dignity. Even in the form of a simple acknowledgement of, and gratitude for, their presence beyond a passing early morning hrumph.

Then, through his smile, with kindness in his eyes, and a Santa-like voice, he says:

“You have a wonderful day. And, make sure you love yourself, okay?”

My heart softens, then saddens.

Seems I’ve missed an opportunity to spend a little time with a stranger. One who I immediately sense has seen so much more than me, lived such a different life, with stories to share, and a compass that lets him continue leading with his heart, and reminding others to do the same.

I want to know his story. I want to understand where and when and why he decided to do what he’s doing, to offer a little bit of love, and to reciprocate his invitation to love himself too. Though, I also sense it’s not needed.

I want him to feel words of kindness land from a stranger. And, to feel seen.

His phone pings the next ride. I’m about to be late for my meeting.

Still, he holds my gaze.

For a split-second, we’re micro-dosing in shared attention.

But it’s time to go. And, so I do.

Wondering all day, how many other tiny moments of shared grace and connection like this I’ve missed over the years. And remembering, how important it is to keep being kind, human, and make a little more effort to see and be seen, to connect, and feel connected.

Even when it doesn’t come easy, or when you’re in post-dawn, pre-human, perpetual introvert mode.

It’s not about grand gestures, or sustained effort. Just a moment—a micro-dose—of recognition, attention, and appreciation, served with a dollop of curiosity and an invitation to share, as we walk the plank of this tiny blue marble together.

With a whole lotta love & gratitude,

Jonathan

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Wake-Up Call #37 | Micro-gestures

As you move through your day, what might happen if, just for a moment, you looked up and out?

You opened your eyes a bit wider to those around you, then lingered in a single, passing interaction just a bit longer?

Not in a weird or awkward way, but long enough to see someone you might not normally see, and offer even the tiniest gesture of kindness.

Something that, in your way, says, “I see you. I appreciate you. Be good to you.”

Give it go. Then, share how it unfolds in the comments if you’re game.