Pay attention

A single mom author raising her young son in the woods long ago wrote a distinction that has stuck with me. When her son would scamper off into the woods, she would tell him to “be careful.” Looking up the etymology of “careful,” she found it meant “full of care, woe, or concern; anxious.” So, she changed her admonition to “pay attention.”

If I summarize what I learn from one of my favorite poets (David Whyte), it is this: living can be revelatory, and if it isn’t, I’m not paying attention.

Sailing makes attention easy. It’s a conversation between sailor and environment. A meeting and being met on many levels. As is being in a relationship. Whatever the context, is this the source of all stories?

Being human, of course my attention wobbles in and out of focus. And at any given moment, I am not able to attend everything. Paying attention, in times of grief, can be a very high price to pay. While in times of joy, it can be a quantum leap beyond happiness. Either way, it can transcend self and be worth the effort.

I recently stumbled across some of my writing from a period of intense challenge, and I didn’t recognize my own revelatory voice. While I wouldn’t wish such a time on anyone, it demanded an intensity that felt addictive. In that particular case, we couldn’t know what would be required of us next. So, I wrote, “Instead of seeking what to do, seek readiness for whatever it will be.” “Seek readiness” sounds like broadly sage advice. Apparently, I needed to be reminded of it.

What will be next? For Shanghaied, the San Juan Island Grange has invited me to do an author talk later this year (I’ll post the date here when I know it). In the meantime, who knows? Maybe some other inquiry will show up.