“Paying attention is a form of reciprocity with the living world, receiving the gifts with open eyes and open heart.”
—Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants
This piece is part of a series offered by the GilChrist team during the month of October, in honor of GilChrist’s 25th anniversary
I saved my money for a camera. A nice, shiny, digital camera with a big lens. A camera that makes that really satisfying click when you press the shutter.
I didn’t necessarily want to capture the mountaintop views that go for miles or the sweeping sunsets—although I do love experiencing those. I wanted to capture the small details, the tiny moments, those which may otherwise go unnoticed. (Camera-speak calls this the “macro” setting.)
I still don’t know what all the buttons on my camera do, and my telephone device now contains a camera that rivals a digital single-lens reflex (DSLR), but I still love to get up close to take a look at the world around me. I both see things that I didn’t see before, and I start to look for things that I wouldn’t normally look for. The microcosms above, below, and around me bring perspective: I see patterns in leaf structure that are repeated in trees, rivers, and ice formations. I watch a single blade of grass, swaying in the wind that sweeps across the whole prairie. I see myself in an ant, hard at work, carrying a heavy load to its nest.
Getting immersed in a small scene reminds me that I have a place within something much larger than myself. Opening my eyes to the connections—looking, listening, being still—helps me see my role in this deep, rich, and wide world.