OBSERVATION
Two fields
The field of Noticing
The field of Observation
Divided by
A centuries old
Stone wall
The kind you want to follow
Forever
I enter and walk through
The field of Noticing
Reviewing life
Buckets in hand
I have come to
Begin my collections
The noticings
Of the years
Decades, even, are
Scattered over the field
I zigzag
Between
Ages
Events
People
Places
Travels
And even
All the different me’s
I scoop them up
And
Drop them in the
Appropriate bucket
Until
One by one
As many as I can carry
For this visit
I place the buckets
On the wall
Curious what
I will discover
I climb over
Into the gorgeous
Open field of
Observation
Benches spread all around
Holding pillows of myriad hues
An invitation to
Sink into the flow of
Comfortable
Uninterrupted
Observing
I spread out
The noticings
From each bucket
Careful not to mix them
Even though
They will all blend together
In a tapestry
Someday
For now
I need to be with them
Separately
I explore each collection
With intention
Ahhhh…
The noticings begin to make sense
Some weaving together
Or
Like puzzle pieces
Fitting into place
I start to hear
And take into my being
The cumulative
Stories of each bucket
Some finished
Some unfinished
I realize
How separate
Each noticing is
And so often
How I try
To make sense
Of one by itself
When I now see
Each one as so partial
In the field of Observation
Immersed in Kairos time
With each astounding collection
I begin
To see
Hear
And feel
The whole
More clearly
This visit shedding light
Even as darkness comes
I place some collections
Back in their buckets
Others stay
Safe in place
Waiting
For me to return
To sit with them longer
Continuing to piece together
What they
Want me to know
I sense
This is
The first excursion
Of many
As I meander home
I play with Rumi’s words
There is a field of Observation
The field of Noticing says
I’ll meet you there
For I have discovered
It is there
I begin
To know and understand
