To Be A Writer Is To Be Alive

"How many species can you see?"

My partner and I were standing outside of my townhouse building in the grass. The sky was a light blue with a cool temperature to match. The wind made the wall of foliage in front of our eyes sway, and the flowering tree above our heads to rain full moons onto the ground.

I tilted my head a little to the side, like a confused puppy, brain curiously chewing on the question that graced my ears. 

"What do you mean? All the plants in front of us? Behind us? Do I include the bees-"

"You're overthinking it."

I closed my slightly chapped lips. My teeth and the wind stole the moisture. I naturally over-thought everything. The infinite options presented in the continuous present are an ocean that I don't know how to swim, but that never stops me from trying to traverse its waters by jumping anyway, or fall in. It's not always voluntary.

My partner gently pulls me out, and I count. Counted species that made the green wall before us. I didn't include the bees but I acknowledged them. I focused on the plants. I took a few steps forward for a closer view, and started looking carefully at leaf shapes. There were cliques of emerald spades, and ovals and serrated blobs. Long maroon stems and short maroon stems. I took note of the tiny purple and yellow flowers that dotted the ground like multicolored freckles. Long thin grass blades between shorter patches. The gnarled tree dressed in floral white as if attending a wedding. The bees were maids of honor. The green leafed and the bare trees alike behind her; the audience. 

"I counted 14 species-" I expressed with childish glee as I ambled back to their side. I did that when I accomplished a task, no matter how simple. In a world full of losses I must celebrate the smallest wins. Didn't even know if I was right or wrong, what mattered is I did it. 

Silence. 

I looked towards their face. Amber glasses gleamed beautifully in the sun as their eyes greedily drank in the greenery in front of us, seemingly lost in thought. They loved outside. Me? Not so much, but I loved being around them. And I wanted to learn to love what they loved.

"Are you gonna tell me if I'm right?"

"No."

"Oh."

My partner is astute, wise beyond their years. Their soul is old and protests generative AI electronic screens and prolonged stays inside. Their brain is a mine of unearthed gold and precious stones of philosophical thoughts and thought-provoking ideas. They often speak with ground solid intent, expressing the inherent beauty of nature in whimsical ways. They spoke up. 

"I have no idea how many species are here. The number doesn't matter at all. The objective isn't the goal. You looked."

Silence again as I let what they said permeate my brain. I did look, I saw, I observed, and in that moment, I felt alive not realizing how dead I'd been feeling up to that point.

"Woah."

"Yeah."

My woah was not a mind blown reaction to that simple yet strong lesson as much as a mind blown reaction to the realization that I NEED to see more, to observe more. I forget things a lot, my memories feel like loose unstable floorboards. Colorless bleak recollections. Muddy water. I don't know where my imagination went. Maybe it left with my marbles. Case in point is, I wasn’t living.

To remember more things, to increase my creativity and bring the colors of the sky back to my mind, to LIVE, I need to be present, I need to see, I need to observe. I need to count species more often, and I definitely did after the first time. Reminds me of my favorite childhood game genres; Hidden Objects and Find the Difference. 

Be present, see, observe. I know I must not only count species of plants, though it's a great start. It's only flexing the visual sense. I need to think about the others, shouldn't forget them. What can I count with my nose, skin, and ears? 

I smelled the cold of the wind, and the chlorophyll of plant life. I felt the stable earth pressing under my feet, the warmth of sun rays like reassuring hands on my shoulders and the gentle presence of my partner standing to the right of me. I heard the bees singing to the flowered tree that nourishes them with sweet nectar, and the leaves' whispered secrets. I was present, seeing and observing. 

In registering all of that, I also realized how absent and dissociated I've been from my senses for a very long time. How I've neglected them. How the majority of souls in the modern world have neglected them.

We experience the world through our senses. If they're not actively being used, we’re not experiencing or living. It's no wonder I've been feeling extreme disconnect from everything, everywhere all at once. 

I must physically apologize and show my senses that I care and am grateful for them still being here with me. I shall see, observe and count with my whole body. I want to reconnect with my life and earth. My memories will be more stable, richer, a prism rainbow of cherished psychological echoes. 

My gratitude and love will bloom like the spring flowers that were under my feet.

And I know this because of the existence of this essay. I counted my senses into action. The muddy water is a little clearer. I re-immersed myself and translated this beloved experience into the words you are reading now that I hope is coloring your brain as much as it is mine, all because I was present from counting because of a simple question. 

Be present! See with your whole body. Memories will be preserved longer, your future self will thank you, and your writing will flourish like the tree bride in my backyard getting married to the sun.

To truly write is to live and to live is to be present.

AI writes but doesn't live. AI can't be present to experience and describe the feeling of wind kissing skin, the bees humming in drunken pollinated pleasure, or pull life lessons and stories from personal conversations. AI can't attempt to pick apart and count how many species are within its general vicinity, give a wild number with sparkling eyes, (as my partner recounted) probably ways off from the correct number and be okay with it.

Because most importantly, AI can’t realize that the objective isn’t the goal.

But I can, and you can.

Now, go outside, or look out your window. How many species can you see?

💜 Jas Hale

*Any inconsistencies are a result of light editing on parts that sounded off or unfinished after I heard and watched the video shared above of me reading this piece out loud.