Sight

I am afraid that, if you stick with me, read my little essays, or watch either high-end videos like this (thank you Taylor Clemons, you expert, you!) or my own amateur camera-phone clips, you will be obliged to listen to or to read my amateur poetry, lyrics, and word-play. I just enjoy futzing around with language so much, but haven’t the training or the discipline to do more than try to express myself differently than I would be able to by drafting a straight-up article.

Here I talk about the deep experience of just walking out the front door and watching leaves fall. So much in our society has been made about being productive, busy, doing-something, constant improvement, all that. People like me have wasted whole days, weeks, months, and years depressed about the past or anxious about the future, when the miracle of the wind; the rustling of trees shedding their summer plumage; the sweep of an invisible hand, brushing branches en masse , on tempo; is at hand every moment.

Sight, like all our senses, is a portal. I was watching two elderly people walk by my house just yesterday, with their little dog. The gentleman walks haltingly, each step a conscious effort. His wife, so caring, stays alongside. I know a little of their story, but very little. Just watching that daily walk, I can’t call it a stroll, reveals so much about not just the human condition but of life. For there is a pup in the mix as well, moving right there with the couple when dogs love to roam ahead. What role does this little four-legged being play in the lives of these two people?

So much to ponder.

It was just a small vignette. Just a bit of life scrolling by, but it reminded me that our senses, like everything we use to access the significant, are so often taken for granted as we worry about making that next appointment.