On appreciating life

Or, how to better understand yourself

One of my favorite things to do right now is walk.

I still love my morning runs throughout the week, but walking, just the act of walking has become a rediscovered habit of mine.

Back in Afghanistan, fellow Soldiers often asked why I kept volunteering for missions—especially dismounted patrols. These were dangerous, and the risk of not returning to the COP was always real.

My answer was simple: “Jesus did a lot of walking, and I guess so do I.”

Walking has always grounded me.

Over the years, the miles came and went, especially as my dog Sam got older.

Older dog = fewer walks.

Now, with Mollie—my new dog—I’m walking more. She reminds me to look up.

To stay grounded.

To feel less unsettled.

To be more appreciative.

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Finding Beauty in What’s Around Us

The Stoic Epictetus once said, “Man was brought into the world, however, to look upon God and his works—and not just to look, but appreciate.”

Here in my downtown world, I’ve started to notice things again on these walks.

The mix of old and new buildings competing for my attention. These edifices of the city whom populate it, albeit quiet citizens of a time long since past.

One of my favorites has become the First United Methodist Church.

Built between 1926 and 1928, it had long blended into the background—familiar, but unnoticed.

Thanks to Mollie, it’s now part of our daily rhythm.

We pass it morning and night.

We’ve seen birds nesting in its trees.

And, yes, - the one stray cat who sleeps beneath a particular tree, clearly annoyed when Mollie disturbs her.

Each morning, sunlight spills across the church’s bell tower—a quiet symbol of aspiration, reaching upward with purpose.

But it’s not just the architecture that draws me in.

It’s the trees. The wind. The stillness of early hours.

Nature doesn’t compete for our attention. It waits.

In Japan, there’s a term for this experience: shinrin yoku—“forest bathing.”

It’s the practice of immersing oneself in the natural world.

Letting it restore us.

Quiet us.

Re-center us.

Appreciating life—especially nature—isn’t just pleasant. It recalibrates the soul.

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The Cost of Distraction

In a powerful piece on Medium, Franky Arriola reflects on how tech companies have weaponized our flaws. He draws a striking parallel to the Seven Deadly Sins:

“Their alignment [e.g., Wrath = Meta, Gluttony = UberEats, Sloth = Netflix, and Pride = LinkedIn] with the Seven Deadly Sins highlights the ethical dilemmas of the digital age. They hold a mirror to our desires, flaws, and vulnerabilities, shaping societal behaviors while profiting from human vice.”

Distraction has become our default setting.

And with it comes disconnection—not just from each other, but from ourselves.

The antidote?

Appreciation.

Not as a virtue-signaling exercise, but as a radical act of presence.

If we are unable to measure the economic cost of our distracted habits, we face ignoring the moral and emotional toll they exact upon us.

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Questions for Reflection

1. What is something in your daily environment—natural or manmade—that you often overlook but could choose to appreciate today?

2. In what ways have your digital habits shaped—or distorted—your sense of peace, presence, or purpose?