Powers of observation

I’ve been in the thick of a challenging situation for the last several days that’s caused me to think extensively about the skill of observation. In ten years of doing this work, I’ve concluded that you either got it or you ain’t.

I don’t mean the ability to see a truck coming at you as you’re walking across the road. I mean the kind of observation skills it takes to hear the whoosh of a hawk’s wings near your songbird feeder, to see a grey cat lying on a grey log far below a bridge, to perceive that a friend is downhearted at dinner, or maybe to spy lost kittens in a bush.

Such a skill I’ve seen first-hand in recent days, as several people in my condo complex mobilized after someone saw tiny, feral-born kittens dodging cars by the Post Office across the street from me, and set out to round them up. Keep in mind this building is surrounded by tall trees and hundreds of bushes, leading toward a deep ravine where predators roam. I thought to myself that even with good intentions, the chances of success were slim to none.

And then, only two days into the search, one couple spied two of them between shrubs. They began going there with food, and each time the kittens came out of hiding to eat.

And then they caught them, with a nonprofessional, Wile E. Coyote approach (putting a small dog crate in the vicinity, tying a string to the door, throwing food in for them and pulling the door closed after them) that should not have worked. But it did. Two of the four babies are now safely in their rescuers bathroom.

While marveling at their powers of observation (and their beginners’ luck! they had never attempted rescue before) I contemplated why the kittens chose to present themselves to this couple. I myself had been over there several times and never caught a glimpse. And where I do think animals are open to connecting to gentle humans, I think there’s more to it than that: I don’t think most humans are receptive to animals, and as a result, don’t SEE them.

I’ve been astonished over the years at how black and white it seems to be: you’re either curious and aware and SEEING, or you’re not. I’d say 80 percent of all people who have walked by me while I’m doing something that would provoke curiosity in some, don’t give me a second glance. That could be prepping a trap on a sidewalk, lowering a basket of food down the side of a bridge, dishing up chow from the hatchback of my car. Most walk right past without a glance. But there are those whose interest is piqued, and approach me to ask what I’m doing. They want to know, and learn, and sometimes even help. They seem centered, connected and clear.

Ten years ago, I walked many times past a group of cats gathered near the Main Street bridge, eating off paper plates left for them by well-meaning people who didn’t want them to starve. It was only when I began to slow down a little in life did I actually SEE the cats, recognize the difficult situation, and ask to learn about it. It was, to borrow from e.e. cummings, the opening of “the eyes of my eyes.”

I love this quote by Sufi founder Hazrat Inayat Khan: “It is the peaceful one who is observant. It is peace that gives him the power to observe keenly.” And he adds, “all things pertaining to spiritual progress in life depend upon peace.”

Perhaps that’s why it took me well into middle age to claim powers of observation – I was on such a treadmill, in such a race until then. (To get what, exactly? Fame? Love? Who knows…) Anyway, it seems clear that you can’t truly observe until you clear your head and heart.

Sometimes I wish I could close my heart back up. Knowing there are two babies still out there alone is heartbreaking. Being observant can be painful.

To quote another philosopher, Jiddu Krishnamurti, “Human beings… go through great agonies. The more sensitive, the more alert, the more observant (you are), the greater the suffering, the anxiety, the extraordinary sense of insoluble problems.”

Oh my, that explains a lot about the darkness of my blue moods this last year. But would I trade my sensitivity for disconnection? Not in a million years.  I don’t think I’d do this work as well if my powers of observation weren’t as keen.

Now, Saint Francis, if you could just let me see those remaining kittens so I can help them, I’d be even more in your debt.

UPDATE: One of the two remaining kittens is now cooling its paws in my bathroom, not happy about being saved but at least happy to be eating a ton. Grateful, as always, for the support!