As spring is approaching, or so we hope, my yard is
changing. The snow is finally receding after yet another dump last week. There
are even a few bulbs trying to brave the mud, cold nights and heavy rain. Part
of the expectation of a new season is a revisiting of the past. I began reading
some of my older posts to this blog. Here is one from July of 2011. I think it
still is pertinent. Do let me know what you think.
I have a game I have been playing for a long time. It’s a
solo all-by-myself game. I began thinking about how my game influences my
writing.
It centers around observations. As I drive, move through my
house, grocery shop, or whatever, I try and find something I have never noticed
before. For instance, I drive Route 77 thousands of times a year going from my
house to the center of town. It’s about a 15 minute trip on a slightly curvy
country road. There isn’t much opportunity for sight seeing if you are the one
behind the wheel. But, I still play the game. I try and find one thing that I
have never noticed before. Brand new construction, added fences, newly planted
bushes don’t count- they are new additions. You only get points for finding
something that has been always there and you just didn’t register its presence.
One day I saw an entire house tucked back in the woods. The
house had certainly been built many years ago, given its condition. How in the
dickens could I have lived in this town for more than 14 years, driving this
road so many times and not have noticed a whole house? Granted it was partially
hidden behind another and granted my husband was driving so I had the
opportunity to sightsee, but an entire house?
So I’ve expanded my game. If I could miss a house, what else
could I miss? I walked through my yard and meager garden with the intent of
seeing what was growing. Not just what was in bloom, but what were the colors,
the shapes, and the sizes of foliage and flowers. The array was amazing. Not
because I have much to brag about, but because each plant became a palate of
its own.
Yesterday I did the same inside my house. My husband had
given me a wonderful bouquet of spring flowers that are sadly about finished. I
sat for roughly five minutes and just looked at them. Not studying them- that’s
too intense. Rather it’s about watching and letting my mind absorb. I counted
seven different colors of yellow in one of the roses.
I am now sitting in my kitchen at our island. I looked up as
I was writing this and saw nine unique reflections in my stainless steel sink
faucet. Each reflection speaks to some source of light—illumination from the
ceiling, early sun through the windows, a white dish left in the sink, a double
bounce off of a stainless steel pump for my dish soap.
I have written before about traveling to gain authenticity
in my writing. I told you about being in Italy and how that has added a
richness to my books. I now posit that there is so much more around us that we
probably don’t see, we are missing a connection with not only our surroundings
but also with our readers. Through our words they need to join in our
experiences.
I’ve decided to take my game to a new level. Over the next
few days I’m going to try and eat my food, feel my clothes, and notice the
fragrances around me all with an added consciousness. Hopefully you will also
notice the details when you read my stories.
2 comments:
Love this post, Cassy. I once was on a diet (Naturally Slim, I believe) that had you eating slower and really tasting things. For instance, take a Ritz cracker and lick it, then smell it. It is unbelievable.
Liz: You are so right. I recently attended a memorial service. And a dear friend was speaking about her father. It was the little things that made a difference. We all know the big things. Love those Ritz crackers! Thanks for chiming in.
Post a Comment