Stop and Stare (and listen and feel and taste and smell)

While reading The Spell of the Sensuous, I was reminded of my time abroad specifically when Abram wrote that “nonhuman nature can be perceived and experienced with far more intensity and nuance than is generally acknowledged in the West” (25). Although Denmark is still considered The West, the cultural concept of “hygge” exemplifies how Danes are much more in touch with their senses than Americans. Cherishing, acknowledging, and savoring are frequent actions for them.

Abram wrote, “To be sure, our obliviousness to nonhuman nature is today held in place by ways of speaking that simply deny intelligence to other species and to nature in general, as well as by the very structures of our civilized existence—by the incessant drone of motors that shut out the voices of birds and of the winds; by electric lights that eclipse not only the stars but the night itself; by air “conditioners” that hide the seasons; by offices, automobiles, and shopping malls that finally obviate any need to step outside the purely human world at all” (26).

There were differences in how I noticed nature when I was living in Copenhagen, a very busy city, and spending time on the islands and in the countryside of Denmark. A local artist, Thomas Dambo, even built giant trolls and placed them in the rural parts of the country to show the beautiful and often overlooked nature spots. He believes that what matters most about his art is that it draws people into nature “to have a good experience there.” Many afternoons and weekends were spent venturing out of the city with my friends in an attempt to find these hidden trolls.

On Study Tour when one of my classes visited the island of Samsø, my classmates and I were waiting for our bus, and a local islander told my class to take some lavender from the garden in front of her house. We learned to savor the scent and her kindness. There was such a change in how I felt and lived in less civilized places which has helped me realize that I do not want to settle down in a city.

Abram said that “We consciously encounter nonhuman nature only as it has been circumscribed by our civilization and its technologies: through our domesticated pets, on the television, or at the zoo (or, at best, in carefully managed “nature preserves”). The plants and animals we consume are neither gathered nor hunted—they are bred and harvested in huge, mechanized farms. “Nature,” it would seem, has become simply a stock of “resources” for human civilization, and so we can hardly be surprised that our civilized eyes and ears are somewhat oblivious to the existence of perspectives that are not human at all, or that a person either entering into or returning to the West from a nonindustrial culture would feel startled and confused by the felt absence of nonhuman powers” (26).

I like the term “civilized eyes and ears” that Abram uses here because I felt similarly startled upon my return to the U.S. from an experience that taught and showed me what the U.S. looks like from an outsider's perspective. I couldn’t help but question our “authenticity” and the need to always be alert and conscious. Since then, I have tried to implement ways of being less focused on the hustle and bustle and more attentive to nature and my senses by doing activities that require me to “shut off” my brain and consciousness, such as going for a bike ride, watching the sunset, and not being on my phone.