Noticing Part 2

I am coming to believe that the broadest of conciliations are that of our relationship with the natural world. The possibilities of that happening require a vision into the future, a long-term effort, no easy fix. The key driving force needs to happen in the education of youth. Priorities need to be augmented in teaching natural history, creative thinking and discourse, and in particular, for our country to seek harmony we need to start taking down the borders we have setup in the education system. From the get-go, young people are placed within antiquated boundary lines that divide language, culture, and in particular they divide based on religious beliefs of dominant previous generations, beliefs that no longer reflect the many-sided modern reality we hold in common. At present, history is told as a different story in every province as a result of the education system. The teaching of history wants to be a universal story based on a country’s development, where achievements are heralded and ugly issues of the past are brought to light in the classroom and students are engaged in the conversation: “When schools flourish, all flourishes”, to quote Martin Luther.

All of the above has been a trickle down of personal thoughts as a result of social restrictions nurturing more time at home, in the studio or alone on the trail with the donkey Thunder. Like the technology that draws us outside of ourselves, the quieted acceptance of lockdown and focusing only on the things that might be capable to inviting change, have offered great peace and serenity amidst pervasive anxiety. But mostly I have begun to notice my immediate environment more as a result of lessons of Thunder. I have been open to learning since the beginning of our ongoing trek last year and am happy to report that the teacher seems to notice when his student begins to catch on. The start-up was about getting in touch with my higher self. Easy to get caught up in the general focus on disparaging news when we know there’s a predominant unfolding of constructive happenings in the world. If we are prepared to make change, working at augmenting our insights seems like the logical path toward growth and awareness.

Thunder has taught me to stop and pay attention to immediate surrounds. Sure, he has inborn concerns beyond mine in terms of engagement with the wild and survival. Sure, his long ears with hearing that I compare to parabolic dishes that can swing at almost 360 degrees independent of each other, in addition to super scent abilities to pick up happenings are ways that I will never accomplish. But the lesson he offers is about noticing, being in the moment, pay attention to the smallest of events around us. I observe the routine of the spider as it swings trapeze-like and spins and winds its web like a fisherperson waiting for a prize. I have studiously watched the robins and house wrens build nests from scratch or repurpose former nesting sites, breed, raise a family and then move on. When I see the four o’clock blue heron come over on its flight path from the Big Swamp to Pleasant Bay, I assume feeding time.

I can’t remember a passage where presence of mind encourages me to feel the leaves of my newly planted branch willow first thing in the morning; or guiding the fragile yet powerful reach of the Englemen ivy leader vines as they reach into the breach sensing where they to latch onto next. Last year I rescued some branches of a red cedar tree simply because I admired their beauty even in death. Believing that you can never kill a tree as it will live on in different forms, I built an archway using the material for structure to support the ivy that season through season will embrace the branches as together they form the lush and living architecture of the entrance to my backyard; edifying moments to engage with if we are ready. As Thunder and I take pause under the shade of a tall walnut tree along the pathway, I’m certain to return home with a pocket full of new, harvested from noticing.