2007-07-08T17:12:00.000-07:00

Learning to see again.

Our lives have evolved to be so different from that of our ancestors. Imagine, for a moment, a sheep herder a millennia ago, standing by his sheep at night, staring at the stars twinkling above, looking at the shadowy forms of the hills and vales caught in the moonlight, hearing only peepers and frogs, the occasional hoot of an owl and the wind's rustling through the grass. His minutes click by unmonitored with only the rising and setting of the sun marking time's passage. No one else is around, only the bleating of a lamb settling into the newly found pasture. The aroma of clover, thyme and newly chewed grass floats in the evening zephers. He rises at sunrise drinks some cool water from a mountain stream and perhaps stares at the clouds passing, recognizing faces and animal shapes.

Now leap back to our time. We leave our offices or places of business, fatigued by continuous stress, climb into our cars and join the packs of rapidly moving lane changing , honking others and head for home. The radio announces the late afternoon news or blares out commercials while the highways passes by at 50 or 60 or mostly 70 miles an hour. At home we collapse in our living rooms allowing TV's monotonous eye to dull our senses, providing a reprieve with its 30 second sales or new slices that in turn have compressed messages into tiny segments which we tune out, glad for the respite.

At the weekend the time is our own, and must be used fully, every conceivable activity compressed into this two day space before we must start again.

I was standing in my booth at the New England Flower show at which I was selling my images of flowers and vegetables watching people, as one does. I noticed several who dashed in to my 10 by 20 booth, looked around and then dashed out. I thought at the time, what are these people seeing? I have seen others at museums, pause for only the barest of seconds in front of a masterpiece and then move rapidly on. Curious, I asked the next couple who dashed in and started to dash out, if I could point out something to them. I took them over to where I had hung a picture of a simple montauk daisy. "Pause for a moment and look at how nature has arranged the center of this flower", I said. "See these spirals of yellow pollen, circles interwoven. Does it make you wonder if they are all the same or is it like a our thumb print with each flower being different?" I stepped back to my chair and watched as the couple started looking for the first time at each of 30 or so pictures of flowers in my booth. They didn't buy anything, but it didn't matter, They had begun to see and that was more important.

Flowers