Returning to the Basics

I admit, I didn't apply myself when I was in secondary school. Instead of using my classes as opportunities to open my mind to new possibilities, I thought the subjects were pointless. I complained that I didn't understand why I had to waste time on them. Almost always when I got called out in class it was for talking when I should have been listening.

"Youth is wasted on the young." —often attributed to George Bernard Shaw

Even in my favorite band class, I sometimes talked more than paid attention. Once I was so engrossed in conversation with the friend beside me that I didn't even realize when the teacher had stopped the entire band, watching and waiting for me to finish talking. Pretty ridiculous on my part considering I was first-chair flute, which meant I was the one person directly in front of the director. I guess I had a lot to say! 🫣

If I were in those classes today, I think I'd be an exceptional student who actually wanted to listen and learn. Now I get a lot of enjoyment from reading and studying and asking questions about topics new to me. Personally and professionally, there's so much good stuff out there I've never heard of or considered.

It feels good to be curious, and I'm easily sucked down the rabbit hole when I start researching something. Sometimes I obsess to the point of overwhelm and realize I need to step back. Remove the complexity. Look for the simple. Return to the basics.

Part of what makes gardening so intriguing for me is the opportunity to be a beginner. It's a hobby that's completely new. I get to experience it from the start, to watch how something so tiny quickly overtakes a space. Each day I'm eager to observe the new growth and discover how the fundamental elements of the garden relate and aid in each other's success. And sometimes each other's demise.

I know the processes involved are profoundly complex; I could never begin to understand what all is happening. But I appreciate that I don't need to know the complex to be filled with wonder at the simple.

Yesterday afternoon, we had a refreshing rain after many hot days. This raindrop collected on a collard leaf. When I looked closely, I noticed the sun, the clouds, and the blue sky reflected in the droplet. The image as a whole captured the connection between the earth below and the sky above. Simple but powerful! It was like looking at a favorite piece of artwork . . . only better.

Looking with fresh and curious eyes at the things we think we already know is just as important, or more, as offering that same level of curiosity to things brand-new to us. There are things I've become so accustomed to that they no longer enter my field of attention.

"In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few." —Zen master Shunryu Suzuki

It's too easy to take things for granted, to get locked in to believing things are forever true or will for always be applicable. To overlook the interesting, the clever, and the unique.

I've worked with books most of my adult life. I've known the physical parts and referenced them often. But my use of them had become so habitual that I no longer paid attention. I worked with them unnoticed.

Recently I came across this video that explains those basic parts. Watching it helped me put fresh eyes on the simple and renewed my appreciation for something I'd been overlooking.

Now when I hold a book in my hands, I'm able to examine the basic details without preconception. I can think about the efforts and the decisions that went into its creation, to recognize the many people who contributed along the path. This awareness gives me a deeper appreciation of the whole.

When I'm able to step back and begin fresh—return to the basics—I feel like I have more mental space to be curious about and enjoy new possibilities. Things don't need to be as complicated and complex as I've made them after all.

Look closely for what you might be overlooking.

I'd love to hear about something you recently looked at with fresh eyes, someplace you noticed the simple.

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