Stop, look and listen

By Mia Pohlman

Today, inspired by an article on teaching I'd read, I had my creative-writing students empty their pockets, take off their watches and leave behind their bags and books and phones. Their task? Go out into the world and pay attention.

When they came back, we wrote and talked about it.

One of my students watched people walking under umbrellas outside, from the top floor of the library.

Another explored parts of a building she'd had classes in for four years but had never known existed.

Another saw someone who looked like Forrest Gump.

One of my students said while he was sitting in the science building, he found himself wondering what other people were thinking about him, since it's not normal to see someone sitting somewhere, appearing to be doing nothing.

We talked about how, in our society, we often shield ourselves from the world and each other with our use of technology. We want to appear to others that we're busy. If we're busy, maybe we matter -- or, at least, we won't notice if others say we don't.

If we're busy, caught up in another place and not fully present, there is less of a chance someone might come along and ask us to change our lives. On the other hand, when we engage ourselves, others and the world with our openness and presence, who knows what might happen?

I have been craving rest lately, both physically and spiritually, and also not really doing anything about it.

I am tired of the noise, of the conflicting viewpoints all around us, of ideas that change from one day to the next. I am needing stillness; I am needing silence.

I still love this meditation on Psalm 46:11 (NAB): "Be still and know that I am God! Be still and know that I am. Be still and know. Be still. Be."

This is all we need, to know that we are provided for, that we "live and move and have our being" in God.

One of my students, in response to how it felt to pay attention, responded, "Great. It felt so good to not have any stuff, to not worry about time, to just go out into the world and be."

Jon Bellion sings it this way: "All we want to know is where the stars came from, but do we ever stop, ever stop to watch them shine? Or are we staring with, staring with ungrateful eyes?"

I think it is gratitude that frees us to be. Everything has to come from that, from how good it is to be loved by God. This anchor of security then frees us to be able to be open, to God, to ourselves and to others. If we are interruptible, we can be transformed.

It starts with paying attention.