See what I mean?

The human organism has been designed with particularly good eyesight. We’re especially attuned to detect and focus on any movement in our field of vision, which was a significant evolutionary advantage for an opportunistic species that might equally find itself as predator or as prey. If something moves, we want to know about it, what it is, where it is, where it’s going, and whether it’s something to eat, run away from, or have sex with.

The counter side of that is that we’re exceptionally good at ignoring things that don’t move, because they don’t warrant our attention. In our daily lives, we don’t notice the sky, the grass, or rocks. They’re background, not foreground. It’s really hard to spend any time looking deeply at something that doesn’t move or change. Have you ever tried? We’ve even honored the phenomenon with a derogatory cliche: “about as exciting as watching paint dry”.

Media companies have known this for decades, as you can see from the ever-increasing pace of cuts and context switches. The sudden movements and changes of color capture your attention because we’re hardwired to give top priority to the most rapid movements we see. I’m sure everyone’s had the experience of eating at a restaurant or pub with someone who is constantly distracted by something on the television, even when they’re not interested in the content of the program. Or the experience of being that person!

The price of this evolutionary advantage is a very real kind of shallowness. No matter what we are doing, we are continually distracted by whatever’s moving around us. Our attention jumps from subject to subject with the rapidity of a hyperactive hummingbird.

I noticed this walking to work this morning. It was a wonderful day, and I began looking at the nature around me: granite boulders, gently swaying trees, green lawns, and a cloud-spotted blue sky. But I kept finding my eyes drawn away: to a splashing fountain in the middle of a pond; to the cars passing by; to the maintenance guy painting a fire hydrant; to the men playing golf at the course next door.

And, of course, I began to wonder.

As I looked at all those things, I was just letting my eyes dart around, never resting on any one thing for very long. I wasn’t deeply experiencing the cars or the golfers or the fountain; my eyes were just registering them and moving on. I may have seen a lot, but I didn’t see anything very deeply or with any sense of richness or connection.

So I decided to “see different”. I concentrated fully on looking at the things in my field of vision that didn’t move: the trees, those boulders, the grass, and the road beside me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was really difficult not to let my eyes dart away. We’re so used to the quick cut and context shift that our attention is always fragmented. People no longer have the ability to actually concentrate on one thing for more than a moment.

The second thing I noticed was that once I did look at the things that didn’t move, my experience of the world around me gained tremendous depth and richness. There’s more visual depth in a bare stone than there is in any fast-paced car chase scene. And a single tree has more elegance and a more complex story to tell than any feature film.

By looking at the things that don’t move, I literally began to see the world anew, with wonder and awe, and a very deep sense of being present in the moment I was living. There’s beauty all around us, even in the most decayed urban wasteland, if only we made better, conscious decisions about how to use the amazing gift of our vision.

So my challenge to you is to try it. Stop letting your eyes mindlessly jerk your attention around. Take the time to actually look at the things that aren’t moving, that have always been background but never received your full attention and appreciation.

Take a good, long look at the things that aren’t moving. See the world for what it is, not for what it is doing.