We see, but we don’t see. We look and imagine or fool ourselves into thinking that we actually take in what we’re seeing. Our eyes see, they record images, but most of the time our mind is elsewhere, focused on something else or drifting aimlessly. We see, but we don’t see.
But what happens when we focus and concentrate on what we’re seeing?
What happens when we cease just seeing and start observing, start actually actively processing the huge amount of input that we receive from our eyes?
Do we just get overwhelmed, does our mind refuse to accept or process after a certain point or does it just reach the point where it has taken so much in it all blends into one jumbled mess?
When was the last time you really saw and concentrated on taking it in?
For me, I suppose it was when I moved to Germany.
Everything was different and yet familiar at the same time – and my mind, my brain, saw all these differences and focused on them. Why now, though? Had I been visually asleep in the UK or had familiarity lulled my mind to the point where it didn’t bother anymore? Whatever the reason, suddenly I was seeing again; really seeing. It also had a strange effect on another aspect of ‘me’. This one. I wanted to write again. I wanted to record the things I was seeing and experiencing. I wanted to write down the minutest detail and then expand and expound on its meaning, letting the words flow out, allowing them to breathe and run amok on the page; to go where they chose regardless of which path that was. Filled with this new enthusiasm for writing I put finger to keyboard (which really doesn’t have the same ring to it as ‘pen to paper’) and caught up with work blogs – well, started to anyway but that damn Gina the Giraffe has been a major travel junkie and demands I write about her before anything else!. Not quite what I had in mind but my writing skills were not so much rusty as stagnant. A few weeks of forcing myself to do work related blogs and even sneaking in some about revealed something else I’d forgotten. Writing, any sort of writing, is hard work. It wasn’t just my writing skills that had fallen into disuse, my brain was reluctant to get back on track too! This could have been a major problem; it would have been so easy to slip back into writing torpor except for the intervention of complete and utter boredom from a part time job. In a sort of call centre. Maybe a survey centre would be a more accurate description, but one where they call out and conduct phone surveys in dozens of languages. Unfortunately the auto phone dialer is, at times, very very slow which means that you sit there, sometimes for up to tent minutes, waiting for a connection. And then they hang up. So you wait again. What to do during the waits? Write of course! Not just write, but write letters to friends and family, rediscover the joy of filling a page with a pen. Or in my case, fill a page with almost indecipherable scribbles with the occasional identifiable letter thrown in for confusion. Another skill that had been severely neglected to the point of being lost – I could no longer form letters properly! Oh woe is me! (I love that phrase!). So back to the old adage “Practice makes perfect”. I wrote. I wrote some more. And then I wrote even more. Letters to that wayward runaway daughter of mine, letters to friends that were years overdue and I discovered something, or rather I re-discovered something – I enjoy writing. I enjoy tapping away at a keyboard. I enjoy putting pen to paper even if I do struggle to read my own writing when I come to transcribe it (like now). The mere act of writing gives me personal satisfaction even if no one ever reads the results but me. It calms me. It centres me. It fills a void that i didn’t even realise had been lurking and growing within me. I now find myself writing stuff in my head when I see things; making up stories and giving people character and reasons for why they are there (usually some nefarious reason too). Which brings me neatly back to my starting point (in my deranged mind anyway) – We see, but we don’t see. I am now seeing again. Here’s a question and a challenge for anyone who does read this: What do you see? Name just one thing, one detail and describe it. Make it come alive in words so that the reader, any reader, can also see what you see. I suppose the real question is: Can I do it myself? I look forwards to finding out.
PS. The picture is of Hattingen by the way, a very pretty German town near to where I now live. No reason for adding it other than I took and like the picture!
natural way whilst having the opportunity to pass on knowledge to a younger generation. We supply large Jurtes to the project that are used for kitchen and communal living and Hamish and Nell are constantly pushing the boundaries of Jurte use so are a fantastic place for us to trial new ideas or modifications. This trip (which was actually in April 2009 so you can see just how much of a slacker I am!) we were trying out a new tunnel system to connect the Jurtes, looking at prototype porches for Kohtes and trying a new tent called the Banag. More about these can be found in the 
This minute if not sooner! I’m not against snow, I mean, it does make everything look very pretty and I do like walking in fresh snow, especially the way it crunches underfoot. I also love the way everything is quieter; does the snow absorb sound or something? It just seems far more peaceful than when there is no snow. And then you have to go out and suddenly it’s not so much fun anymore 
The car was buried under several inches of snow that had to be removed before we could brave the untreated side roads and get to a reasonably safe main road. Thank God for winter tyres – big fat treads designed to grip in snow and ice. Snow chains for next year are looking like a sensible purchase too. So, Germany is covered in layers of freezing ice and snow and England, oh lovely England, despite grinding to a halt at the first sign of a snowfl
ake and the panic buying it induces in idiot people, isn’t.