Seeing More (Part Three): The Discipline of Attention

“Didn’t have a camera by my side this time
Hoping I could see the world through both my eyes”
-- John Mayer, “3x5”

John has a point. But sometimes, a camera can help you see – or at least pay attention. Last summer, we were reading Esther DeWaal's book Lost in Wonder, and I got this hunger to pay attention, to see more. On an impulse, I went away to my parents’ house for a weekend and took my dad’s new pro digital camera out for a walk. I found all kinds of crazy beautiful stuff within five minutes of the house and was amazed that, for twenty years, I just plain hadn’t noticed.

Since then, I occasionally grab my camera to take pictures of everyday things. It’s not a discipline, really… more of an exercise. An attempt to pay attention, to see things from a different vantage point and open myself. It’s like switching my eyes into four-wheel drive, giving me more perceptive traction somehow.

The last time I did this was while I was dogsitting for Malette’s. They have a lovely apartment, and I wanted to see it in pieces to explore the unique minutae of the environment. I strung some of those images together here (a broadband connection would be helpful...).

The exercise is good. The attentive mindset helps me go deeper. The discipline it energizes and cultivates is one of inviting divine attention to my inner décor. Taking a loving look with God at my soul’s furniture that I rarely see in the midst of rushing around to get things done. Some pieces need to be rearranged or refinished. Some need to be thrown out. Most need to be noticed… recognized… appreciated.

The rhythm of noticing also helps me love better in response to everyday moments. The line that shows up in my mother’s face when my dad makes some remark over the cell phone... The blank stare of a fellow student when I make some 80s pop-culture reference... The tear in the eye of the woman coming forward for prayer... I suspect that the little things, the things I so often miss, are usually the 10% of the iceberg.

The camera, the exercise, the discipline – they help me pay attention, within and without, so I can steer myself away from shipwreck and maybe nudge others in a similar direction.

Lord, nothing is so small as to escape your gaze. Help me to pay attention to You, that I may see more and deeper. Help me keep my eyes on Your face so that when You look somewhere, I can follow Your glance and move.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, make it so.