Pay Attention
There’s a cost to every transaction. And there’s one exchange occurring continuously throughout our days with a hidden price and potentially astronomical fee. Where we place our attention.
We remain utterly unaware of this exchange rate because we’ve grown so accustomed to paying it. Consider the habitual focus on this name and body identity—the endless internal commentary about “my” needs, “my” problems, “my” people, “my” preferences. This psychological investment appears valuable, even essential. After all, doesn’t survival depend on maintaining vigilant awareness of the self?
Yet examine the actual cost of this attention placement. Each moment absorbed in me-identification purchases anxiety for the future, regret regarding the past, and dissatisfaction with the present. We trade our natural inheritance of peace for a counterfeit currency of endless concern.
Meanwhile, we dismiss the alternative as worthless. Resting attention in pure awareness seems to offer nothing tangible. No drama to resolve, no identity to defend, no specialness to maintain. From the ego’s perspective, such presence lacks any apparent value.
But we’ve confused the price tag with worth itself. The transactions we avoid—those moments of stepping back into spacious awareness—cost us nothing while delivering everything. Perfect peace carries no charge. Unconditional love requires no payment plan.
As A Course in Miracles observes: “What could you not accept, if you but knew that everything that happens, all events, past, present and to come, are gently planned by One Whose only purpose is your good?”
The most compelling return on investment? Stop paying for suffering and discover the joy that was always free.
Join me in Thursday’s class where we’ll explore the true economics of attention and learn to invest our awareness wisely. I look forward to seeing you then.



I notice in my Course meditation times that a deep joy can come upon me. But what is notable to me is how incredibly short the time is before I start back into what some call 'the monkey mind.'
So what shall I attend to here? How quickly I lose it? Or the beautiful joy that I have it at all?