Look Without Blinking
This is a term I have just recently been introduced to and I love it. To me, it means bravely keeping your eyes open as all the wonder, beauty, awfulness, insanity, loveliness, and even scariness of your life and your world looks right back at you. It’s observing the world all around you and pulling out the fantastical brilliance of it all and stopping to notice the details, the moments, and the magic. It also means noticing all of these same things inside yourself, and bravely digging in deep to who you are with a bold acceptance and even pride and love for all that you are, including the good and bad. It’s releasing yourself from all of the expectations you and everyone else has put upon you and creating your own definitions of joy, contentment, and abundance.
The older I get, the more I don’t blink. I’m 3.5 years away from 50 and I can’t tell you how much with each passing day I find my life, myself, and my world so magnificently fascinating. I think back about what I thought was supposed to bring me joy in my youth and I giggle. How boring. How shortsighted. How predictable. To set my sights on things and status rather than on the perfect curiosities of nature, people, and life…it’s just so disappointing.
My favorite time of the day is right before dawn and into the sunrise. The stillness before the birds awake is spiritual for me. The oncoming cacophany of chirping birds that follows makes me feel like I’m listening in on the most curious of conversations unbeknownst to the conversers. As the sun rises and the chill in the morning air lifts, I am witness to the start of a new day that lays before me with unending possibilities. It’s a day that is washed clean from the night before and it comes with wishes to wish and secrets to unfold and all that I need to do is show up with my eyes open, and not blink.
My favorite clothing is now anything made of cotton that flows in the breeze and has an elastic waistband. My comfort level supercedes all fashion trends and where I used to want to dress to stand out, now I dress to stand still and notice all the lovely tiny little things around me, rather than hold a desire to be noticed.
My favorite space is a braided rope chair that hangs from a branch on a tree that sits in my front yard. From this cocoon I read books that allow my inquisitiveness to roam free, watch as neighborhood life happens all around me, and swing and sway myself into a million lovely ponderings about all the things. All the things.
My favorite state of being is now one of silence rather than one of filling the silence. Why I ever found silence to be awkward is beyond me. I know I’m interesting, but I also know all of my stories. In my silence I get to hear all of yours and I find them fascinating and mysterious and I hang on every word. I get to remember them late at night and wonder all sorts of lovely things I could never have wondered if I didn’t learn how to enjoy my silence.
I now look at the world with my eyes wide open and I take my time to witness all the thrilling spaces between the breaths that disppear so fast you’re not even sure you saw them. I am grateful for quiet, stolen time, soft grass, a face with wrinkles and no makeup, a pen and paper, space I no longer feel the need to fill, one-sided conversations with myself, worn-in sandals, walking my dog before the world wakes up, and watching each season awaken to later watch them give up their fight to the next rebirth.
One hundred and eighty-four births and rebirths of those seasons have come and gone in my 46 years. I certainly look forward to observing the next 184…without blinking.
