In the last post, I wrote about learning to see the whole field, understanding not just the ball, but where we are in relation to everything around us.

What I’ve come to appreciate over time is this: it’s one thing to learn that lesson. It’s another thing to maintain it.

Because most of the time, we don’t lose awareness all at once. We simply stop paying full attention.

Three Situations

I’ve seen that loss of awareness play out recently.

A couple of years ago, I was injured playing pickleball when my teammate and I both went for the same overhead shot.  Although the shot was mine, he wanted it more.  He ran into me, knocked me into a wall and to the floor, and then fell on me.  Ouch!  Bruised shoulders, hips, and ribs.

I saw the ball. I didn’t see the whole situation.  Recovery took several months.

In another pickleball game, a friend backpedaled for a lob, lost his balance, fell backwards and hit his head on the court.  He suffered a concussion that kept him out of play for a few months.

He too saw the ball, but not the entire situation.

A third situation involved a pedestrian accident.  My friend was crossing a busy street in the rain after dinner to get his car.  Because of rain, poor visibility, and his position in the street, a driver could not see him and hit him, killing him instantly.

Sadly, my friend did not see danger until it was upon him, and it was too late.

A Common Thread

These situations are different, but share a pattern.

Attention narrows. One element dominates.

Everything else fades just enough to matter.

Over time, I’ve tried to make adjustments.

• Being more aware of my environment and others
• Avoiding unstable movement.
• Slowing down when needed.

Consider giving some of these thoughts consideration.

All of this sounds straightforward. In practice, it isn’t.

Awareness tends to fade in the moments when we think we’ve seen it all before.

And as I’ll discuss next time, that matters more as we age, because the margin for error narrows.  So we will talk about “Paying Attention as We Age.”

As always, be well – and age gratefully.

Chris

Walking off a recent flight into Memphis, I noticed a dozen wheel chairs lined up along the left wall of the jet bridge.

A dozen.

That meant there were at least a dozen people on the plane who would need assistance just to get from the aircraft to baggage claim, or beyond.

Two thoughts came immediately to mind.

First, a quiet but unmistakable sense of gratitude. Carol and I were walking off the plane under our own power. No assistance. No hesitation. Just walking.

It’s easy to take something as simple as walking for granted. Most of us do, most of the time. But moments like that interrupt the routine. They remind us that what feels ordinary is, in fact, a gift.

Second, a brief prayer—for those passengers. That they would travel safely. That the process would be smooth. That they would arrive at their destinations with as little difficulty as possible.

It wasn’t a long moment. The line kept moving. Life resumed.  But it stayed with me.

Because this is what seeing looks like.

Noticing what’s right in front of us. Recognizing what it means. Letting it register before moving on.

As we age, it’s easy to drift in the other direction—to stop noticing, to move on autopilot, to assume tomorrow will look like today. But situational awareness isn’t just about avoiding risk.

It’s about recognizing reality as it is, both the challenges others face and the blessings we still hold.

That short walk down a jet bridge was a reminder: paying attention sharpens gratitude.

And gratitude, practiced consistently, is one way we age a little more gratefully.

As always, be well, and age gratefully,

Chris