Sit & See
a wider field of sensing
Dear moveable human,
When’s the last time you’ve gone outside and just sat, looked, and listened?
Become part of your surroundings.
If you haven’t, I consider this some worthwhile homework for the human spirit.
It’s something I love about this mobile life — sitting outside in different locales.
Sometimes we’re not in a fitting spot to pull out my own weathered camping chair, but there’s always a place a short walk away.
» a Visitor’s Center or Cracker Barrel rocking chair
» a Main Street or neighborhood park bench
» a stoop or well-suited rock
Something about just sitting with no expectation other than being where you are and taking it in — gives me the space to connect with myself and my surroundings. It opens up a wider field of sensing.
Last week we cruised around here in the foothills and I sat in different scenic locations while Andrew painted in a new to him way — “plein air” style.
I picked up my journal more than I have lately.
I picked up on feelings I had been missing.
I picked up on the deeper connection with this place.
I even picked up my colored pencils.
By the end of the week, Andrew had a collection of paintings and I had a collection of poetic feels that came to me (and through me) as I was sitting and seeing…
HOT, COLD
Hot, cold Hot, cold The clouds look like snow. Nowhere to go other than here. Mother goose guided her kids across the river. How big and scary it must seem. Follow. Trust. Float. Then out the other side. We’re in their home today. This is what I’ve missed. Just sitting in my chair. Not letting the details get by me. Slowing. Hot, cold Sun, shade I saw the mountains on the drive. The geese disappear into the brush. I need this kind of scenery change. It’s a short road to get here. It only grows in my mind when I forget. Hot, cold Sun, wind This is my dream life when I don’t let the outside pressures cave in.
BETWEEN THE BEEPS
Up last night… Thinking. I know better than to go there. Beep. Beep. Beep. Suddenly the parking lot isn’t an adventure. But a worn out feeling. Is anything I dream of possible? I didn’t think so. Not last night. Between the sheets and the beeps. I still have to be more honest with myself. I can’t dull this within. It’s what I’m made of. It’s what I’m made for. It’s what I’m here, to share.
FARM’N
The chickens remind me of our months at the farm. The yurt we slept in. The common house with no hot water. The things I didn’t fear. The wake up call — Ducks and geese asking for food. Knocking at my knees. The jeans I wore. The working Sarah. I say I’m like a farm dog I like having a role … my lane. The rest is grey area. Too blurred and uncertain. There I had a job. Sunrise, every morning. Coffee at the table. Tacos. Paint. Community. It was simple. It was filling and fulfilling. No worry of what was up next.
KUDZU
The kudzu blows in the wind. The sun, warm on my face. Crickets or cicadas, I’m not sure. A deep web of life within these thickets.
SHOCK
SENSING
Something born again inside of me this week A yearning for Or just a knowing Where I’m going A renewed sense of what it takes And what’s taking away A reminder of who I am And what I need And what’s between the two A living example The birth of possibility Redefining what is… Me and Marty A lawn chair Some shelled pistachios Eye contact I couldn’t quite make it But I made sense of it Of this whole story Where were you from 20-37? he asked Sometimes telling someone else Tells you more than you remember Or fills in the spaces between what you forgot
Lucky Enough
Musical artist Zach Bryan starts his albums with a poem. I’ve been listening to his latest, “The Great American Bar Scene,” and his poem he leads with, “Lucky Enough.”
While I’m not one for luck, or for drinking (more like Great American Outdoor Scene over here), there’s this sense of beauty and commonality in the way he recounts his own small moments of living and experiencing that make this journey as big as it is.
His closing line says it all…
“If I’m lucky enough I will make it exactly to where I’m taking this breath now, lay my head upon the earth and laugh at passing clouds.”
…
Last Wednesday night, sitting on a rock at the summit as the sun set. It was the highest up we’d been since we’ve been back here. The hands were cold. The time slowed down. With the discomfort and the awareness. No words needed.
It’s in these moments the void has room to sneak in, as if to remind of the realness.
What if the point of all of this living is to simply be able to sit and take it in and really see it all for what it is — a mysterious gift we’ve been granted.
I don’t know about you but I’ve missed the boat lately on these kinds of moments.
Losing myself in spinning and planning, fretting and forgetting.
Sitting helped me come home to this place of really seeing.
Maybe it can for you too.
Let’s see,
Sarah
All together, separate
Last week’s Foothills Arts Plein Air Festival offered two different individual experiences — one for Andrew, and one for myself. And it offered a shared experience for us — connecting more with this place, with community in a different way, and with our creative journey as HAND IN HAND. More of that will come in video format soon on our YouTube channel.
I’m working within myself to find more room and ways to honor that the moments may speak to us or move through us differently — and that things can be both separate and together, all at once.
Andrew found a new to him groove with painting in a way that aligns beautifully with how we roll, and I found the room to sit, see, support, and exist alongside, while having my own creative, lived experience.
The week culminated with us displaying his collection of paintings on our bedspreads, alongside pieces of our life, and getting the chance to speak to any human being who stopped by to connect, look closer, learn more (our favorite thing).
If you’d like to read more about Andrew’s paintings and his experience painting throughout the week that he put into his own words, you can do so over on Instagram.
To keep on reading
More from Learning to Float can be found right here:
You can also visit the archive for a deeper dive.