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.






Thank you for sharing this beautiful experiment and for the invitation to notice.
Beautiful. Thanks you for sharing your sunrise experiment. Very powerful.