Two weeks ago I dropped Chris off at the airport – his first film job since covid began. He gets back tonight, and will be quarantining in a separate part of the house until he gets a covid test later in the week. Even though we will be somewhat apart after he gets home, it will be nice to have him back. His job often takes him away, but this is the first time he’s been gone while I am also working remotely. The isolation has been weird, and makes me realize just how hard this must be for people like Sam, his only actual human interaction being his work at Panera and one in-person class a week. Sam and I talk a few times a day these days, but the telephone is no substitute for actually being in the presence of another person.
I’ve leaned more heavily on the natural world during these last two weeks. Driving out to the sunset when the weather permits, going for my morning walks. I bought a new bird feeder for the back yard. It is supposedly squirrel proof, and so far (I’ve had it for 24 hours now) that appears to be true. The squirrels have given it many quizzical looks, have tentatively climbed part-way up the pole, but have not been able to figure out how to access the food. I’m taking videos of their attempts and will post them here sometime soon.
As I gain more experience taking photos, I have found that my best photos result not from any technical skill that I have (which is minimal at this point!), but from my ability to pay really good attention to what is around me. This paying attention is also a skill that I find gets better with practice. I spend many minutes just watching the trees and feeder outside my kitchen window before the birds even show up. Most of the photos I take get deleted off the memory stick immediately (if I had a nickel for every photo of a bird that ended up not actually containing a bird, I’d have a lot of nickels). The watching ends up being a type of meditative practice. I am so focused on being ready when a bird shows up that all of the usual unhelpful inner chatter that goes on in my head gets pushed aside.
The leaves have all fallen to the ground now, and I spent a couple of hours yesterday raking the last ones up and dragging them to the curb, where they will be vacuumed up by the city this week. The once lushly leafed trees look so vulnerable in their bare state. There is a red-bellied woodpecker that hangs out in my back yard, and he hammers away quite vigorously at the bark of my beloved trees, searching for insects to eat. As beautiful as he is, I sometimes find myself wishing that he would eat elsewhere. Still, I’m sure the trees will survive it. The benefit to having the trees so bare is that I can see (and photograph) the birds better now, which is such a source of pleasure.
Mary Oliver once said in a poem, “To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.” She also said “Attention is the beginning of devotion.” The idea of paying attention runs throughout her work, and is evident in her loving and lavish descriptions of the natural world. Paying attention to nature has become so important to me, and such a source of solace for me, during this pandemic. And I’m finding that once I practice paying attention in one part of my life, it spills over into others. That, I’m learning, makes the work of gratitude (and it can sometimes be hard work) so much easier. Attention may be the beginning of devotion, but I think it is also the beginning of gratitude.
Love,
Michelle xoxo