It's amazing what we see and what we choose not to see. When Amy and I were in Florence we lived together and had all the same classes. This meant that practically every day we rode the city bus to class together. Our experiences and what we saw, however, were always different. We rarely seemed to notice the same things. Amy would mention how extravagant one woman's fur coat was. I wouldn't remember seeing her, despite her sitting two seats away. Then I would make a comment about the park we passed and the interesting characters within and she wouldn't have noticed that particular part. The same thing happens in London. We don't even really think about what we are seeing. Our brains just pick it up. It's as if our consciousness is on holiday and our perception is running on overtime. But it only picks up what it is predisposed to like or something that is so shocking it can't keep it out. We have to train our minds if we really want to see. This is what my professor, Natania, is trying to teach us. In London, we are all learning anew how to see things. We are trying to find and contemplate big questions.
The complication comes when our brains take a time out. Sometimes they seem to completely shut down. It's as if our brains can't handle the constant absorption and goes all Walden to compensate. That happened to me on the way to Hampton Court. I started toying with my iPod and we were there. I didn't know where I had come from, the route we had taken, and I knew I wouldn't be able to find my way back unaided. I had missed so much that was pertinent to my situation. I had probably missed even more than that.
How do we train our brains not to shut down? How do we get them to stay tuned in? How much of the world and understanding have we already lost? How much are we still going to lose?
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