I sometimes drift along with blinders on not noticing things around me and then some little idiosyncrasy will be pointed out (or I'll suddenly notice it) and then it's like that thing is lit up in Broadway style lights and it's all I can see.
It happened to me once in high school when my math teacher said 'mmmkay' about 35 times a class. It started to be all I could hear.
It happened to me again while I've been reading a book aloud to Inspector Climate. It's this incredible story about a guy who works on every continent in the world, It's called Hap Working the World by Hap Cameron. The story is incredible, however the writing has it's ups and downs for me. I'd definitely recommend reading it though particularly if you like travelling or have ever considered working overseas.
Reading a book aloud makes me acutely aware of language and how sentences flow together (or if they're obscenely long, I like to breathe). I have to read every word, not like when I read to myself and my brain can skip over a few articles or conjunctions because I can get the gist without them.
In the case of this particular book, my eyes have been open to the ridiculous of what I've come to call "Profoundity." Profoundity is the act of describing what are probably truly profound feelings in the most cliche ways possible.
In one part of the book, Hap is riding his bike ALONE in Africa for 2,500 kilometres. He repeatedly mentions that riding his bike alone in Africa makes him feel alone and vulnerable.
He injures his back while in New Zealand and while he lies on the forest floor wondering if he'll regain the use of his legs he contemplates that life is short and so it's important to try to achieve your dreams and goals.
I have no doubt that while biking alone in Africa one would feel alone and vulnerable. But suddenly re-realising this every few pages is not profound, it's Profoundity.
Tell me your most recent life lesson is as much Profoundity as possible.