The smallest flower is a thought, a life answering to some feature of the Great Whole, of whom they have a persistent intuition.

Something very small can be treated as complete in itself rather than as a fragment of scenery. A flower is a whole working life, answering to conditions it never chose and doing so exactly. Whether you read the larger pattern it belongs to as design, as physics, or simply as the way things fit together, the noticing is the same act. Attention of that kind changes the size of an ordinary walk.

Pick one small living thing you pass without seeing: a weed in a pavement crack, a bird on a wire. Look at it for a full minute. That minute costs nothing and tends to give more back than it takes.