I am increasingly aware of how my attention can constrict or expand my sensory awareness. For example, this morning I was out in my garden, digging away at weeks. Most of my attention was on what was directly in front of my nose. I was aware of the soil, its need for moisture. I was aware of the scent of the tomato plant leaves when I brushed against them, but didn't really feel when I brushed against them. I was aware of the warmth and humidity of the day, even at 6:30 a.m. Soon, I was aware of the deerfly buzzing around my head. Oh, and the itching of yesterday's deerfly bites. Shaking the dirt off the weeds meant that my arms, legs and socks became dirt-colored, not to mention gritty. Sometimes I was kissed by a few drops of dew falling from the weeds I was pulling. There was also the tug of weeds and satisfaction when I felt the roots pull free.
As I expanded my awareness, I heard our dogs panting in the shade and felt the ruffle of an occasional breeze through nearby trees and enjoyed the cooler air on my cheeks and arms. At one point, the sun, which had been hidden in blessed clouds, came out and the air temperature immediately warmed. Sometimes there was the song of the cardinal, probably celebrating a breakfast of raspberries! At another time, the distant roar of an airplane overhead.
Then, I heard big Gus barking for his own breakfast at the back door. Other family members were still asleep and I didn't want his barking to wake them up. It was clearly time to go in to feed Gus and Honey.
Amazing what paying attention brings! What if I widened attention even more?
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