Deep Noticing

An invitation to the peace process.

In a time of deep despair and uncertainty in my life, I noticed I got up every morning for a year to watch the sunrise.

An alarm sounds through the darkness. I carry a pile of clothes, waiting on the stairwell railing, to the bathroom. At 4:30 or 6:30 a.m., the bathroom is the warmest room in the house for dressing. I love comfort.

In 15 minutes, I open the front door. I may be wearing a headlamp, carrying a thermos of hot drink. I may be in a light jacket or a parka. I take it slow as my system adjusts to the cold, rain, snow, wind, icy streets, un-shoveled sidewalks. My direction is one of four bluffs, each between 15 and 20 minutes away. I seek a clear view of the horizon, a wink from the Morning Star, Venus. A darkness traveller, under the shifting alignment of stars above me, I am a radial pattern, fanning out from a central axis of home. I am a dream-carrier arc.

I don’t feel special. I feel burdened. Heavy in the chest. I want to be seen by the sun. I want my heart to expand and expand. I want to hear my mother’s ghost. I want to feel the hum of the earth beneath my feet. I want the splendour and the awe of the sunrise. I want uncomplicated love.

I want to see Venus and, then, for the sky to play against a few clouds for 20 minutes or so. I want the dawn show to prove to me, again and again; it’s worth staying here, on this planet, at this time, even if you have no pathway forward.

I begin to notice my wants, my preferences, in the first ten days when the clouds are so thick, I only see light and shadow. No colour. No golden rays. No pink radiance cast across the sky. Many days in my year begin in cloud, rain, snow. I stand in my sunrise spot and witness what arrives. I wonder what is happening to me? I wonder if this is another sign I’m separating myself, irrevocably, from life-as-I’ve-always-known-it: expectations chosen, expectations met or unmet, elation or disappointment to follow.

I finish my experiment after a year, though many days begin with me on a bluff watching the sun rise. Other experiments interest me. Athena, our pup, is the focus of my morning routine.

I notice, now, four years later, the Seeds of Noticing I planted and nurtured for 365 days in a row, must be inspired by the Aspens; the great spread of Aspen root systems underground support trees who grow for several decades- the oldest about the average age of a human. The root system underneath? Thousands of years old. Thousands.

I notice my noticing extends far and wide. I notice I notice when I notice. I notice I notice when I don’t notice. I notice the body, the ground, the underground, the plant, the animal, the water, the rock, the sky, the cloud, the stars, the smile, the harm, the loneliness, the anger.

I am not afraid to notice. Not often.

I have moved from preference to curiosity. I have moved from scolding myself for being too _________ to, simply, noticing. What is here? What is here?

Prior to my sunrise experiment, I read volumes of books, blogs, and social media posts inspiring me to new ways of knowing, of viewing the world. I sought out connections with people who seemed wise and peaceful. Over the course of my experiment, my imaginal world expanded, I noticed deeper and deeper stories within me, around me. I wrote pages and pages; accounts of tragedies and great love-in-action.

I started to imagine the kind of person I wanted to become. I imagined an older woman with eyes which could hold the beauty and the catastrophe, the joy and the pain. I imagined her to laugh easily and to listen deeply. I imagined her to be calm and efficient in a storming situation. I imagined her, peaceful. I imagined her to radiate light.

Now, I notice the precipice our ways of viewing the world have brought us to. I notice communities of people grasping for comfort, for love. I notice groups of our species pushing away what is uncomfortable, creating a bigger and bigger category of what is unacceptable. I notice what I’ve carried, what I carry. I notice our luggage is different, but the tone and the weight are recognizable.

I notice the waves of emotion are so much bigger than when I stood in front of a sunrise for a year. I notice the light through each wave, too. The light of a being wanting to be free, wanting to be noticed, wanting to be safe.

How can I not love all the light I notice?

Our peace practices begin with us. Notice. Notice. Notice.