I have now spent days with this piece...because it just keeps generating more and more to notice. What I love about it, is that the quality of attention it has us practice here carries through in the rest of my day. Thank you......
there’s something really interesting about noticing and giving a little more attention to things in life. The more you do it, the more you realise there is to see.
I used to think that writing was all about struggling to find the "perfect" words, but you pointed out something I completely overlooked: I wasn’t really looking at anything to begin with. Those everyday things I thought were mundane? They’re actually full of stories if I just shift how I pay attention.
I love most when pictures hit me so beautifully (like yours) that I can not think of any words. Emotions. Joy and wondering, curiosity - they melt somehow a little. The naming is part of an attempt to grasp and catch the unsayable.
I am maybe one of the few who shoot almost no vacation pictures. I take the few seconds and connect the view with a person, a day, an adventure that I can tell about. The knowledge that there is no photo backup leads to the fact that: if it truly was a moment to remember, then we will remember.
Mark, as someone who came to writing later in life, without the map or the formal language of craft, this is exactly the kind of insight I needed.
I used to think writing began with finding the right words. But perhaps the deeper truth is that words are only the footprints left behind after we have truly learned to see.
Your point about attention resonates deeply. The world is constantly offering itself to us, if only we paid attention.
What you are teaching here is not simply how to write better. It is how to become a more attentive witness to being alive.
I am still learning this craft, and your reflections have helped me understand that writing is less about manufacturing meaning and more about creating enough silence for meaning to reveal itself.
The poem, the story, the sentence — they are often already there.
Thank you so much, dear @Dipti Vyas, for such a lovely warm comment.
I’m really happy to be able to share this journey with you, as it is one of ongoing exploration. But not into ones we see on TV, crossing continents; into something closer - into attention and allowing ourselves time to notice. I love how you see the bigger picture here, even architecture at play, as this is more than just writing. It can be broadened to life and our experiences, I believe, by giving ourselves time to slow down.
Thanks so much for being here and for the support and collaboration you bring.
Interesting how this piece has evolved, Mark! I like this new structure, it's very clear and immediately applicable. It's beautifully written and immensely helpful, thank you! Looking forward to the next ones.
The distinction you are making is essential. Writing does not begin with words. It begins with noticing. With attention that has not yet been shaped into language. With the moment before meaning arrives.
The questions you offer are not about producing better poems. They are about staying with something long enough for it to reveal itself. For the ordinary to stop being ordinary. For the cracked pavement, the steam rising from a cup of tea, the way someone waits at a crossing, to become what they already are: portals.
What struck me most was this: "None of those questions asked you to write. They simply changed the way you looked. And once attention changes, language often follows."
That is the whole architecture in a few sentences. Attention first. Then language. Not the other way around.
Thank you, Vlad, for recognising what’s under this thinking. Especially that the questions aren’t about language and don’t direct it either - they are merely guides to help us slow down and notice more.
Thank you, Mark. That's exactly how I experienced it. The questions don't seem to exist to produce answers as much as to create the conditions for a different kind of seeing. Sometimes what changes us isn't finding a conclusion, but learning how to attend more deeply.
I have now spent days with this piece...because it just keeps generating more and more to notice. What I love about it, is that the quality of attention it has us practice here carries through in the rest of my day. Thank you......
thank you so much, dear @WritingWithWater
there’s something really interesting about noticing and giving a little more attention to things in life. The more you do it, the more you realise there is to see.
This is genius. Love it on steroids.
Thanks!
I used to think that writing was all about struggling to find the "perfect" words, but you pointed out something I completely overlooked: I wasn’t really looking at anything to begin with. Those everyday things I thought were mundane? They’re actually full of stories if I just shift how I pay attention.
Me too, Alix. I’d sit there imganing words, scenes, but actually just to slow down a little — then maybe there’s a lot to be seen without that.
Thank you for such a lovely comment and see that in the piece 🫶
Amazing, especially that you will first
Read this
But also this
Then this.
And maybe this.
I love most when pictures hit me so beautifully (like yours) that I can not think of any words. Emotions. Joy and wondering, curiosity - they melt somehow a little. The naming is part of an attempt to grasp and catch the unsayable.
I am maybe one of the few who shoot almost no vacation pictures. I take the few seconds and connect the view with a person, a day, an adventure that I can tell about. The knowledge that there is no photo backup leads to the fact that: if it truly was a moment to remember, then we will remember.
That’s a lovely way to remembe and I drift between that and taking photos.
Thank you so much for your kind words, @mnemonixart !
Okay I drift too, but it is a plan that I am always saying to myself:)
I’m with you there :)
Mark, as someone who came to writing later in life, without the map or the formal language of craft, this is exactly the kind of insight I needed.
I used to think writing began with finding the right words. But perhaps the deeper truth is that words are only the footprints left behind after we have truly learned to see.
Your point about attention resonates deeply. The world is constantly offering itself to us, if only we paid attention.
What you are teaching here is not simply how to write better. It is how to become a more attentive witness to being alive.
I am still learning this craft, and your reflections have helped me understand that writing is less about manufacturing meaning and more about creating enough silence for meaning to reveal itself.
The poem, the story, the sentence — they are often already there.
We just have to learn how to listen.
Thank you so much, dear @Dipti Vyas, for such a lovely warm comment.
I’m really happy to be able to share this journey with you, as it is one of ongoing exploration. But not into ones we see on TV, crossing continents; into something closer - into attention and allowing ourselves time to notice. I love how you see the bigger picture here, even architecture at play, as this is more than just writing. It can be broadened to life and our experiences, I believe, by giving ourselves time to slow down.
Thanks so much for being here and for the support and collaboration you bring.
I really enjoyed this :)
Thanks Lynneth!
Interesting how this piece has evolved, Mark! I like this new structure, it's very clear and immediately applicable. It's beautifully written and immensely helpful, thank you! Looking forward to the next ones.
Thank you, Jessie! It proves to me the value in your review and fine tuning something like this to make it as useful as possible.
Looking fowards to the next one too!
This is beautiful, I loved it. 🖤😍
Thank you, Echoes! 🖤
You’re most welcome. 🙏🏼🖤
I started asking questions about the people 🙂 Loved this Mark!
Thank you, Mara!
I think thats a very human tendency!
Living lessons for our minds, bodies, and spirits. Thank you, Mark.
Thank you, Paul, for such a beautiful reading and reflection.
This is a gift.
The distinction you are making is essential. Writing does not begin with words. It begins with noticing. With attention that has not yet been shaped into language. With the moment before meaning arrives.
The questions you offer are not about producing better poems. They are about staying with something long enough for it to reveal itself. For the ordinary to stop being ordinary. For the cracked pavement, the steam rising from a cup of tea, the way someone waits at a crossing, to become what they already are: portals.
What struck me most was this: "None of those questions asked you to write. They simply changed the way you looked. And once attention changes, language often follows."
That is the whole architecture in a few sentences. Attention first. Then language. Not the other way around.
I will be sitting with this. Thank you.
🙏
Thank you, Vlad, for recognising what’s under this thinking. Especially that the questions aren’t about language and don’t direct it either - they are merely guides to help us slow down and notice more.
Thank you, Mark. That's exactly how I experienced it. The questions don't seem to exist to produce answers as much as to create the conditions for a different kind of seeing. Sometimes what changes us isn't finding a conclusion, but learning how to attend more deeply.
Very innovative and an interesting post 👍😃
Thank you so much @V S Uma 🙏
This was amazing in itself i really enjoyed this post and was drifted starting at the sky and clouds, such a therapeutic feeling 😊
Thank you, dear @Aaliya 🫶
The people, instantly curious about the people
Haha. It’s interesting when our minds do that. Maybe it’s a part of seeking connection, but that’s probably a bit outside of my expertise.
When I looked at the photo after taking it, I went for the clouds and rocks, but I was probably a little biased as I had, of course, seen it before.