32 Noticings in the day

Mountain Village after Storm, by Yokoyama Taikan, 1912

 (from Jan 2015 journal)

Did I say this before? One part of the idea of stopping and looking and recording data is to be mindful, to try to actively suck the marrow of life... and now I don't know what I meant by that before, but now I"m thinking of it as "bones are the things you throw away after a meal, but you can make stew with them!" So, the idea is that you're given 16 hours per day... can't you make 32 things -- noticings -- out of it?

At this time, I'm writing in my orange Leuchtturm 1917 notebook with graph paper.  On the left hand side I'm beginning each day with checklist of things to do -- two columns.  Random list.  On the left hand side is a diary of things I did.  On the right hand side is a numbered list of things I saw.  Observations.  The list continues.  On #50 on Jan 10; #137 on March 6.  That's far fewer than 32 per day, but it's a trove of specific detail that brings the year back to life for me now.

Sometimes I'm writing about photographers are wearing at a special mass with the bishop.  To noticing that "the wind has 'routered' the snow off the wind edge of the snow-covered tables in the courtyard. As I was looking, the wind grabbed the corne off, flinging it to the landscape (and include a short sketch).  To images from books that I'm reading to comparing how the snow is falling to intermittent downpours. To things Karrie says.To things I overhear while XC skiing at FB to "58. the sound of the creek, under the ice when it's half ice covered... musical"

32. The butter-yellow ful moon 20degrees to the horizon. Rising over suburban garages.  Rancid butter?

34. The full moon light coming in the bathroom window, solid-looking, color of skim-milk (bluish), seeming to be held back by the shade, pouting out the cracks to the floor.