Deliciousness. Vivid colours. Sharp smells. Fresh insight.

This is how we experience the world when we pause for long enough to engage with it.

Sliminess, too. Unease. The familiar sad pang of acknowledging impermanence. All this is part of life.

If we're not careful, we skip past so much. We get caught in the endless stream of emails and to-do lists. We put our heads down. We scurry to 'keep up' with everyone else.

My main arsenal in the continuing battle against mind-fog is the mindful writing practice, small stones.

A small stone is a moment of engaged attention, written down. Poetry, prose, it doesn't matter. The most important part is scrutinising whatever presents itself, as objectively as you can. Loving whatever is before you.

Each small stoneI write teaches me something new:

"lime-green periscopes of fern rise through the dead."

This one draws my attention to impermanence and to the beauty and reliability of new life.

"white braille-flowers on bone-china mug. the generous earlobes of the grey Buddha. white hairs in the kitten's black tail. the reflection of the table leg in the golden grate. a tight pain in my neck. the clicking of Kaspa's mouse."

This one reminds me to pay attention to all those small 'insignificant' details that pass us by.

"small red berry, so bright I cannot help myself, I bend & pick it up."

This one reminds me to praise.

Deliciousness. The croissant I ate this morning with tart gooseberry jam. Vivid colours. The egg-shell blue of the wide open sky. Sharp smells. Late roses, cutting through the cold air with their honeyed scent. Fresh insight. The world brings me wisdom, wherever I look.

Pause. Look around you. Let your senses reach their tentative fingers outwards.

Allow the world to shock you with its deliciousness.