March 31, 2012 § Leave a comment
On the stoop, as the east-coasters say, I sit (we pacific-siders just call them porch stairs). There is a definite connection.
My feel for the stoop phenomenon is a place to see your world. A stillness to contemplate your global view of things, yet, with a precise personal local framing of things. If I am close to understanding the bigger picture of a stoop, the coasts analogy works. If not, then the stoop instigates something new.
On my morning trek in Debs Park my connectedness is nature, on twelve stairs that lead to nothing now, left from some past architectural marking–a Nature’s Stoop if you will.
The word nothing doesn’t capture the fullness, though. The stairs lead up the hill and instead of there being a door, building or foyer, there is greenery, poison ivy, sycamore trees, shrubs and the perceived improvised rhythmic notes of birds keeping perfect metronomic time.
Contemplating with nature I’ve heard it called before. The sitting and looking out to the world while looking in to how you and I fit into it. How can one contribute, feel part of the oneness of our universe in other words, or as I have been musing for a while now by collecting and posting thoughts in this Everything’s Connected, Everything blog.
Losing that focus keeps me from posting as I have mentioned here (once or twice) after an extra long postless absence. Falling-off the figurative plane of existence blurs the collective consciousness I want be part of (like the picture above).
Not feeling part of what is happening directly in front of oneself is not an energizing place to sit–stoop or not. So, once in a while, I trek up a hill, move the body to action and BAM there it is: instant connectedness. With the air, trees, smell of just-wet earth and the songs of rustling life within plants and branches. From there ideas begin, the invisible appears, and the universe returns.
How truly simple. Yet often forgotten and ignored. The universe follows simple actions. Want, do, achieve. Everything else just is, not what it seems. Great minds have tried to teach me this for years. I think I now understand. May I not forget.