The holidays of the season call to mind many images.

There are candy canes and wrapped gift boxes. Bells as they might ring out from church steeples or over donation baskets. We have fully fanned out fir trees and angels, stars, and the simple crib or crèche baby Jesus inhabited.

The silhouette of Santa Claus — bearded, booted, and belted — conjures up childhood dreams. And it’s hard to ignore menorahs and dreidels and the wonders they represent.

Images charged with meaning seem to have lives of their own at this time of year. They’ve become symbols of values and beliefs. Some were inherited from our parents and their parents.  Other associations are more personal and related to our individual experiences.

The other day, when I was walking my dog, I came across a brown leaf on the ground, not an unusual occurrence in late fall. The leaf seemed to me to be in the shape of a heart.

I’ve seen online photo galleries full of such examples, of hearts or heart-shaped objects in nature: a fluffy cloud or notch in an old oak tree or a puddle of rainwater pooled on an uneven surface filling the perfect outline of a heart.

When I was trying to find an image for my nosmallthing blog, around a decade ago, a friend found just the right image for me. One heart-shaped stone could be discerned from among a collection of many stones, many stones of different colors and sizes.

I thought this image was a perfect symbol for mindfulness and what I hoped to accomplish through the blog.

I hoped that I might encourage people to look at what was already present in their immediate surroundings and, simply by giving something more attention, be able to see what is unique and BEAUTIFUL in that thing.

Attention itself can seem to make something beautiful. Of course, the object doesn’t change, but bringing a heightened awareness and openness to seeing the world can change everything.

I considered this leaf in my path and the many images, symbols of the holiday.

While not considering myself to be especially sentimental, I can appreciate the importance of symbols in many people’s lives; the drive to ascribe meaning to experiences.

But this week, I contemplated the image of Jesus as an infant in a humble manger being visited by wise men under starlit skies differently.

I thought about angels with shiny brass trumpets poised for important announcements and decorated wreaths on front doors. After attending a friend’s Hanukkah party, the glowing image of lit candles in a menorah, different colors of wax delicately dripping down the sides of candle holders and mingling in sort of a rainbow pool became imprinted in my mind.

I also thought about this little leaf that I saw on my walk.

While symbols can quickly identify beliefs we might share with others or remind us what has been meaningful in our lives up until this point in time, I think we need to consider how we want an image to be inspirational going forward.

If people just consider the image of the child in the manger significant because that event was important to their parents or hometown, I think something important is missing. If used as a reminder to live with humility and faith, that can change everything.

If people look at a menorah’s lights and only think about the historical event, the miracle of a small band of warriors being able to hide in a cave and eventually triumph over a large and  oppressive foe, I think something important is missing.

The wonder of a lit menorah is not just in recalling the miracle of lamp oil providing light for much longer than expected. It’s in living with the understanding that our individual lights can shine, and even tiny righteous acts can make a difference in the world.

I love the idea that tuning in and giving attention to the little things that fill me with joy, what finding heart-shaped objects in unexpected places signifies to me, is how I want to live.

Considering an image as an inspiration, as a guide, as you move forward in life is no small thing.