I step out of my home and I know what is it that I will see. Some cars of the neighbourhood, the same trees, the same street dogs that live in our lane and maybe a neighbor or two. Stepping out is very routine, very mundane. “I know exactly what is going to be there.”
My daughter on the other hand is super excited every time she steps out. She sees the same dog every day and everyday goes “bow wow wow” as she sees him. She sees the same birds and yet goes “tweet tweet tweet’ with both her hands behind like she is going to take off soon. It seems to me that she is truly seeing them for the first time every time. Stepping out is a wonder for her. “I don’t know what I am going to find today!”
I am amazed (and honestly speaking, also a bit jealous) of this freshness in her eyes. She would walk around and pick out the tiniest of the dried leaf or flower from the pot; she will find stones that fit her hand; she will notice the earthworm that I would have easily missed.
I ask myself, how can I learn and nurture this practice of deep observation which comes so naturally to her. Her curiosity brings in this acute awareness of surrounding which I have lost in the process of growing up.
It brought another thought to my mind. What does it mean to know? In knowing, do we also know that we do not know. That our knowledge will always be limited. One of my favorite quotes is,
“you never step into the same river twice.”
In that sense, every person, every being is changing from every moment so can we learn to learn? Can I learn to step out and look at things with fresh eyes? Can I be okay in ‘not knowing’ and thus keep my wonder for what am I going to discover today, alive?