Notitia

Attention is a basic form of love, and often (maybe always) what gives rise to it. So the question, "To what do I pay close attention?" is a good one.

I had a meaningful experience with my attention this past August, during a wilderness workshop at Esalen with Steven Harper (see links to My Community, right). We hiked Big Sur every day, including forays into the newly burned areas. A hike, Harper-style, is not a sweaty aerobic march or an extended conversation about work and the personal history of one's companions, with an occasional glance at the scenery. No, these hikes were silent, often solitary, often slow, full of sensory exploration--- pauses to sniff the air or a plant, watch a jay in the pines, listen to the creek roll over smooth stones, touch rough bark and leathery leaves, and be touched by the sun and the breeze. (Whoa, I have a body, and skin.)

It takes discipline and regular practice, as I have discovered, to walk this way, deliberate and permeable, without a guide to set the tone. My first move is to slow down. Slow down and notice.

Our word "notice" comes from the Latin notitia, which means to get to know, awareness, and knowledge. In "Anima Mundi," James Hillman defines notitita as "that capacity to form true notions of things from attentive noticing." He goes on to note (sorry) that what we generally devote our detailed attention to is our emotional reactions to things, not the things themselves. The world disappears and all I know is that "I" am hot or hungry or tired or having a good time.

Notitia is a soul move, a move of depth and patience and courage, because we shelter ourselves in our ideas and concepts. When Steven asked us to approach every place that we visited as a teacher, he meant leave the habitual preoccupations and enter the world as it is, as it presents itself to us. In other words, form a true notion. Oddly enough, even the burnt and the broken are beautiful.

Photo by El Andariego.