Jon Young's "What the Robin Knows: How Birds Reveal the Secrets of the Natural World" is actually a book about awareness, via the metaphor of ornithology. Its final paragraph summarizes the mindfulness-mission:
When we train ourselves to listen to the birds with every synapse of our brains (or so it may seem), when we "lose our mind" and "come to our senses" in the fullest possible way, the chattering, texting, e-mailing, twittering mind will eventually quiet down and almost silence itself. This is a sacred and connected silence, and within this zone we can choose to turn on the conscious thoughts or leave them off. It's like a deep, still pond reflecting the stars of the night sky. I believe this is the baseline for human consciousness, and I'm convinced that the birds are the best mentors in the natural world for bringing us to it.
Part of that is to move, as the author says, with "awareness, connection, empathy, and respect" — outdoors in the presence of animals, and at every other moment in life. When discussing the senses and how to sharpen them, for instance, Jon Young offers beautiful metaphors to hold in the heart. From Chapter 4 ("The Sit Spot"):
- Owl Vision
- "... pick a point or object on which you can train your eyes without moving. Hold that spot as your focal point. If your eyes wander off, bring them back. Always return to that spot. While staring at that point and without moving your eyeballs, notice how you can also see some of the context around that spot — part of the ground or floor, maybe some of the ceiling, maybe stuff on the surrounding wall. This is your peripheral vision coming into play. Build on it by adding to your peripheral awareness the farthest thing you can see to the extreme left... to the extreme right ... as far above the focal point as possible ... as far below the focal point as possible ... all without moving your eyeballs from your focal point. By focusing hard on one point, you can actually see much more throughout your field of vision. Now turn your head, change your focal point, and reengage your peripheral vision. This is actually a meditation, in a way, and you can practice it anywhere, anytime. In your sit spot, engage owl vision in moments of deep baseline, when nothing seems to require close attention. Absorb the scene as a whole. This connection is invaluable."
- Deer Hearing
- "... in your mind, "prick up" your ears. "Twitch" them. Imagine how they feel. In your sit spot, listen to the silence between the sounds, so that you can hear the more easily missed companion calls and the quieter birds such as the juncos. I always try to listen "farther" than I can see. This mental image helps some people extend the range of their hearing. By listening to the silence, you'll hear more of everything. An enhancement of this exercise is to concentrate on the farthest and quietest sound in front of you, then to the left ... the right... behind ... above ... below (where even worms and insects moving in the litter at your feet make a little noise, and in time you will hear it). With keen peripheral hearing, no matter how far away and subtle the bird calls may be, they will jump to your ears."
- Raccoon Touch
- "... While you are seeing and hearing at your sit spot, you are also sitting on the ground or in a chair, maybe leaning against a tree, and your hands are touching something. What? Feel it! Our skin is the largest organ of the body for a reason. Use it. Is the ground cold? Is a rock or a piece of bark poking you? Is any part of your body crying for attention? What's the feeling inside your shoes, or the feeling of the ground beneath your feet? Can you feel moisture? Is the sun shining on your face? Can you feel its heat? If you can hear the wind, you can also feel it. I call this "raccoon touch," because the raccoon earns a living with its sense of touch. Have you ever watched one investigate the rocks at the edge of a pond? Its little hands touch and turn, reach under and around each rock, hoping for a tasty morsel. All the while, its eyes are directed elsewhere, often into distant space, not really looking at what its hands are exploring."
- Fox Walking
- "... Empty your mind of everything except awareness. Channel your ability to multitask in new ways. Walk in the "weight last" style taught to me by Tom Brown, which shortens your stride, slows you down, engages your awareness, and changes the way you conduct yourself. Tom dubbed this style of locomotion "fox walking," and light on their feet as foxes are, the label is fitting. ... instead of swinging and stomping, raise one foot off the ground and let it hang there comfortably. Then slowly lower the foot to the ground, wherever it naturally falls. Don't lean forward. When the foot touches down, the other leg is still bearing all your weight. After the first foot is on the ground, shift your weight, still without leaning forward. Keep your head up. Like the journey of a thousand miles, the road to natural walking begins with this single step. Repeat the process. With very little practice, you will find yourself treading softly, taking shorter steps. ... You're changing — softening — your presence in the world."
Yes, and ...
(cf Twitchers and Foamers (2013-12-15), Gentleness, Sensitivity, Compassion (2014-03-09), Taiji and Self Awareness (2014-04-15), Slow Birding (2022-12-22), Birding, Zen, and BirdCast (2023-04-19), ...) - ^z - 2025-01-20