Since it’s National Poetry Month, I thought I’d share a brief look at one of my favorite forms of poetry: the haiku.

For many people, haiku is a more approachable form of poetry. Poems are short, usually three lines of 17 syllables or less—perfect for a hurried world. (And, dare I say, even Twitter-sized?) I was taught in school that they should be broken into 5-7-5 form, but it’s increasingly popular and acceptable to break the lines in a different pattern and/or use fewer than 17 syllables. Line breaks should be at natural pauses, and are used to punctuate the poem.

Haiku are deceptively simple—a lot is packed into a few syllables. They focus on what’s happening in the moment, often involve nature and frequently indicate a specific season. They should evoke some type of emotion. According to Creative Writing Now, “Instead of saying how a scene makes him or her feel, the poet shows the details that caused that emotion. If the sight of an empty winter sky made the poet feel lonely, describing that sky can give the same feeling to the reader.”

Even for a novice, haiku are fun to write and read. I’ve gotten away from this practice lately, but for a while I was writing haiku several times a week. This is my most recent one:

huddled like mourners

black vultures crowd together

warm April rain

Two more of my haiku appear in this post found at Belle, Book and Candle where she shares reader haiku. She also has two more posts on haiku here and here. And one of my favorite spots for a dose of haiku is Susan Tweit’s Pinterest page where she writes and posts a haiku and photo every day.

If you’re interested in a more in-depth exploration of haiku, I recommend The Haiku Handbook. For more information on writing your own haiku, click here.

Playing with words makes me happy—and haiku are a fun way to do that. Why not try your hand at haiku, and come back here to share them with us?

Have you ever driven somewhere and found once you arrived you couldn’t remember how you got there? Lately, it seems like I feel that way at the end of the day, too. I’ve arrived at evening, but I couldn’t tell you how I got there. I know I’ve been busy all day, but I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was I’d done. This is no way to live a life of simple pleasures and everyday adventure.

Why am I so oblivious to my own life? Several reasons, actually. Despite repeated efforts to stop already, I still equate being busy with being productive so I rush around trying to pack more into every day. I also tend to live in my head, mulling things over, projecting and obsessing, even while rushing around. And there’s this: I resist being present because I find too much stimulation overwhelming and if I paid attention to every thought and feeling, I’d have a nervous breakdown.

So what am I doing instead of really being there? I’m:

Useful, right? I know I’m not the only one facing these challenges. The good thing is that improving my level of attention to my own life doesn’t require anything expensive or difficult. Just a few behavioral tweaks to bring myself back to mindfulness, starting with scheduling fewer to-dos (but making them of more importance to me), creating buffer zones of time around each activity, and pausing several times a day, just for a moment to take a deep breath and check in with my body and my mind. (Happify has an exercise called the Body Scan Meditation that I’ve been actively avoiding—maybe it’s time?) I’ve even started writing haiku several afternoons each week, focusing each one to reflect the moment I’m in. (They’re pretty terrible, but reading back through them I get  a clear image of where I was and what I was feeling when I wrote them.)  None of these strategies is new (except maybe writing haiku)—I just have to do them instead of just talk about them.

I don’t know if it’s possible to stay 100 percent “in the moment”—or even if I want to. (Daydreaming is fun and I enjoy it!) But I do know I want to spend more time paying attention, not missing my life.

How do you pay attention to your life?