Travel Writing Blog: Entry II

Today I thought about what it is to be observant. A lot of people will tell you that it's the ability to notice the little things. I disagree. There's no doubt in my mind that to be truly observant is to notice the big things going on around you. As a child, I would hunch down in the back yard and follow the path of a single ant carrying a unit of grain into its underground home. I was noticing a very small thing. However, it was only when I loosened my focus and surveyed the scene through a wider perspective that I really became observant of what was going on. A slightly bigger picture showed me several ants following that same path, carrying their own grain into the hole. What I saw then wasn't just a lonely creature storing his goods, but a collective of worker ants serving a more noble purpose—serving each other and serving their queen.

I am observant. I have the ability to look past the minutia of my surroundings and see the bigger picture. I see the common good in the common people who all depend on each other to improve their communities and reach their goals. I see the collusion of unseen forces that show themselves in the most subtle of ways. Today, what I saw—what I noticed—what I observed could very well be a most unsettling prospect if you choose to take my word. It was within the Isaac Newton Shopping Center in the town of Grantham that I made my observation. Starting with the simple, minute matters of my observation, I will say that I saw an elderly man sitting quiet and still among the ever-noisy movement of any place where men come to trade. This was the same elderly man that I had seen during many other short trips into town to pick up supplies. He sat in the same spot, wore the same suit, and tapped the same cane against the tile in uneven intervals. The sky produced an overcast glow through the fogged windows above, and the man seemed perfectly content not to subject himself to God's weather. There may be nothing extraordinary about these observations in and of themselves, but as I mentioned, the true observer looks past the object, beyond the physical, and into the bigger picture. 

What business had this man, sitting in that spot every day? Could it be that he was only seeing a devout people-watcher? Doubtful. The man's head surveyed the ever-changing crowd of shoppers with the motion of an impact sprinkler, though without all of the obnoxious sputtering. To satisfy my internal query, I thought of where I was—I broadened my perspective. There I sat, across from this man in the middle of a shopping center of an English town, when it suddenly dawned on me. English town... CCTV, Big Brother, The Nanny State... The United Kingdom is well-known for its widespread use of government surveillance! And to draw connections that now seem obvious, I discovered in my mind the underlying nature of this man's motives. He was, no doubt, an agent of surveillance. A man of experience who is now too old to be anything more than an eye on the street... or at least in this case, an eye in a shopping center. And this is no doubt a shopping center concerned with the prospect of shoplifting or vandalism in a country stricken with the fear of terrorism, whose people are urged to be ever vigilant. I also noticed that many patrons of the shopping center were at least familiar with the man; waving or tipping their hats as they hurriedly walked by. He is clearly a recognizable and familiar force of deterrence within the community.

Who does the man work for? I cannot say. Though his mannerisms, trim suit, and excellent posture all lent themselves to the traits of a government worker. As I made my attempt to discover more, I noticed the man looking back at me. I had been watching him for some time and perhaps he did not like being on the receiving end of such a relationship. I quickly redirected my attention to the large clock that hung above the commons of the shopping center. It was 3:20 PM. I had only a few minutes to collect my things and make my way to the bus stop.

Back in my dormitory, I still cannot understand how such long amounts of time can be spent by this man, just peering into the lives of others—seeing just a few minutes of their hectic day before they scuttle on by. What observations could he be making? What assumptions? What conclusions? Yes, I too am observant, but such a constant practice of observation may lend itself to fantasy or self-deception. I've determined that the nature of true observation lies in the ability to put things in the perspective of our greater reality. Anything less is just a dash of nutmeg wasted on the kitchen floor.