The Overload

I am walking through an alley. One car. Two cars. Another one. All drive by me. There's a man and his dog. There is a car alarm that's turned off to my right. I enter the tree-lined street. Now, a child and his nanny, an acceleration of a BMW, and the red truck lights. Then silence for a fraction of time. Tree branches are brushed by the wind's caress. My feet step over fallen dry leaves. The birds are singing through the cry of an ambulance in the near distance.

I am walking through the city with all my senses turned outward. I am scoping out potential danger, ever on a lookout. I am fully engaged, alert, aware of all that could be. I am equally unaware of my inner processes. As the noise dies down, the natural world around me and, by extension, within me is now perceived by my senses. I feel the breeze, I hear the churping. I hear my sandals against the asphalt, I notice muscle tension.

Human reality is experienced through the physical senses. If these are on overload with continous external stimuli, how much of the world is actually experienced by us? How often do I hear the birds and the leaves with my focus centered on avoiding injury or causing one? How well can I listen to my own self through all the external sounds vibrating my ear drum? And how can I pay attention to what I need, want, or long for when all of my capacities are overtaken by the chaos of a city?

More to follow....