The Art of Observation

Finally coming back home from school, you drag your feet down the same old, cracked sidewalk. The houses and trees blur into the background, the sky seems gray, and the wet puddles from the rain this morning feel as though they reflect images devoid of any color. The sounds around you start to fade, and the only thing you hear is the rhythmic beat of your footsteps. You just walk, waiting to arrive in the safety of your home. 

For many people, this is what life feels like -- maybe even you. From walking home from school like in the story, or even taking a quick detour to the pantry for a little midnight snack, our society has forgotten to just sit and observe our environment. 

This week in AP Language, we read and analyzed the short speech "This is Water" by David Foster Wallace. In doing so, I had come to a momentous realization: the scenario described in the beginning had been how I was living for the past few years. This is Water underscores the idea that by observing typically overlooked aspects of life, you'll find that life isn't as gloomy as you would think. In other words, if you look at things within your life differently — more positively — life will also feel more positive, and every moment you live through will feel noticeably more enjoyable. I've come to understand that life isn't going to be just unicorns and rainbows and cupcakes and cute stuffed animals, and it's not always going to be easy to observe your surroundings more. But still, we can try. The thing is, to observe things isn't to try to look harder for new things, but it's to slow down and look at things differently. Like we learned in This is Water, observation is choosing how to think and what to pay attention to.

So what if we looked at the scenario in the beginning... but in a This is Water way?

Finally coming back home from school, you step onto the cracked sidewalk and notice blooming weeds and flowers, the plants refusing to be ignored. The houses lined up along the street with peeling paint and various pots on the front door, each house seeming to hold a story; the sky, stretching as wide as the eye can see, brushed with streaks of soft clouds, never seeming to move even with each step; and the sounds of your footsteps, creating a melodious beat with the soft wind rustling against the dancing leaves. Each detail of this world reminds you the world is alive, and you are a part of everything.