how to see the world

Wake up. Look out at the sliver of sky beneath your curtains, and admire the shapes the trees paint in the clouds. Listen to the sounds of the outdoors, until the sharp    kee-yew of a Flicker sends you rolling out of bed, tugging on a plush green robe, and scampering down the stairs. Look out the back window at that big brown woodpecker breakfasting on the birdfeeder. It's usually a male - admire his sleek silhouette, his downy, black-spotted chest, and his sweet little red cheek stripes. He's blushing. He knows he's a messy eater.


Eat a leisurely breakfast, taking the time to stir the honey into your yoghurt just right. Bite open a blueberry, roll the tiny seeds on your tongue, and take the time to notice the green inside that hides beneath their dusky blue skin. Slip on some shoes, and try not to scare up the chickadees as you circle the house and arrive in your garden. The landscape seems barren and without hope, but if you look closely, the bravest of plants are beginning to sprout. Crouch down. Admire the unassuming beauty of a tiny columbine; small scalloped leaves, purple-green, curled so tightly that they hold a drop of water. Spring is offering you up a pearl.


Go outside. Do all the things you usually do, while seeing and hearing, smelling and feeling, all at the same time. Walk to the mailbox, even though the letter that you wait for is never going to come. Take in the sight of a purple sky. Don't look in the mirror. Leave your watch at home. Be fully in this place.