Seeing What I Can See

Nearly every day, I like to walk around my backyard, slowly, taking one careful step after another, highly aware of where my foot will land and the degree of vibrations, knowing that the slightest molecule out of place will alert any insect basking on a leaf to my presence, and they will flit away. So, I have to be more than quiet; I have to know where each part of my body will next end up, while my eyes scan the many, many branches and leaves for the tiniest movement, like a flicker of imagination.

What do I learn from this? I learn to observe, to be aware of my surroundings, to examine what my eyes see, to intuit motion, breathing, air, aromas. What I learn expands with each new time I am outside in the backyard, seeing what I can see. I spent all summer doing that and I have seen such wonders of life that I am humbled.

Sometimes, I push all of that aside for a moment, and think about people sitting behind desks, sitting behind the wheel of a car, sitting in a waiting room, standing in line, talking on the phone, texting, watching TV, plugged in…and am marvelled at the possibility that others would choose that over walking around seeing what you can see. Why not everybody walk around on the planet seeing what they can see? Not hurting anyone, not harming anyone, not fighting, just walking around seeing what we can see. Every so often one or more of us will meet, and converse, sharing with one another all things that we can see.

I have a minute length of time to spend on the planet, why would I want to spend it sitting down, standing up, opening my mouth only when someone told me that I could? I have seen strange (an opaque, orange-colored insects with black and white striped colored legs) to the usual (a housefly), but my favorite have been those insects I had never before seen.

Seeing what I can see. . .