It was a sunny midday last July, and I was leaning on the railing by the bank of a canal with a beautiful woman, watching swans float by. It was a perfect, endless summer day, the kind where time seems to hang as if forever. Around, little kids frolicked, the ice cream truck jingled by, and the elegant white birds moved as one.

But I was somewhere else; obsessively cataloguing how off kilter life felt, all the things that weren’t going the way I wanted, runaway problems I couldn’t imagine corralling.

I’d meditated just enough to notice these thoughts. And it occurred to me right then that I was choosing to spend this objectively beautiful moment focusing on my unhappiness. Not that my worries were unfounded, but on this most perfect summer day, I chose to give all my attention to what was wrong and miss the incredible scene I was in.

So I looked around and quietly named all these sensations: the elegant swans, the squealing kids, warm sunlight, soft skin, giggles, the smell of freshly baked pastries wafting through the air. Why not soak up, and save the sadness for a later, gloomier moment?

Since that day, I’ve done a better job noticing the beauty. I run on a perfect boulevard on a lovely Fall day, crunching leaves under my feet, sunlight streaming through the autumnal kaleidoscope above.

I walk home from the gym under a full moon, illuminating endless warm windows, countless buildings stretching up and away.

I pull my awareness out from the pit in my head and take in my surroundings. I am here. I am present.

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