Lost in Thought

If you step outside and close your eyes, even for a few moments, with the intention to simply feel your own body and listen to the world that surrounds and holds you, you may be surprised at all that is going on just below your usual line of consciousness: The songs and calls of the birds, the ebb and flow of the wind and the subtle scents it carries, the warmth and coolness on your skin from light and shadow as the clouds transform themselves across the sky. Like we do to the conversations around us at a crowded restaurant, we often tune out the voices of the natural world as well. Sadly, though, we often don’t realize that we are part of that conversation and that our own voice and awareness are integral to it.

It’s natural to be selective about what we’re paying attention to at any given time, and it is not possible to take everything in all at once; however, we often aren’t aware of what we have tuned out. Through mindful awareness practice, we can achieve a higher level of baseline awareness, able to take in more of the messages being broadcast in our environment. We can begin by simply acknowledging this ongoing conversation and honoring that indeed we are part of it. From there we can train to be intentional with our listening, our understanding, and how we choose to interact with the natural world around us.

The Moken are traditionally a group of seafaring people who live scattered along a small section of the coastline of Myanmar and Thailand where those countries meet the Andaman Sea.¹ Despite threats to their culture such as forced resettlements, many Moken maintain their nomadic hunter-gatherer lifestyle, sustaining themselves primarily from fishing the oceans in their ancestral lands, as they have done for countless generations. Their well-being depends on an intimate relationship with, and deep listening to, nature. What they eat, what they wear, the boats they sail, and the structures they live in all come directly from the land and the ocean. In the way that we may know our own home in great detail, room by room, they know the ocean and land where they live. With a high level of awareness, they take in everything from the movement of wild animals and weather systems to the fluctuating sounds of the natural world into which they are woven. The Moken have a rich oral story tradition. Critical information gets passed down through the generations in this way. The importance of this combination of powerful moment-to-moment awareness and the sharing of stories based in deep connection to the land can be felt in the recalling of what unfolded for the Moken on December 26, 2004.

Around 8 a.m. local time, a magnitude 9.1 earthquake struck off the coast of Indonesia. The tsunami waves that followed were one hundred feet tall at the epicenter and traveled toward the coast at five hundred miles per hour. These waves would eventually be responsible for the tragic deaths of nearly 230,000 people. Along the coast of Indonesia, Sri Lanka, India, Thailand, and the Maldives, natives and tourists alike had little to no warning of what was to come. Modern technology and the ability to get the word out had failed. That morning found hundreds of Mokens spread out in small groups on beaches and in small fishing boats. Life was flowing in its timeless way, as it had for so many generations of Mokens living in this place and off the land and ocean.

In our Western, modern world, we tend to accumulate things. Attics, basements, and even storage lockers are filled with items we believe to be of great importance or sentimental value. For nomadic people, only that which is of great importance can be kept. For the Moken, one of these highly precious things was not a physical object but rather a story—a story that was so important it was passed down around the fire, generation to generation, and known by every child. Though no living Moken had ever experienced a tsunami, they had shared many versions of a story about “an ancient thing that had swallowed whole islands before” called Laboon.

The stories told of the clash between the sea and the land and all the devastation that came with that. Also in these stories were the signs that would alert one to the imminent unfolding of these waves. It said that the cicadas and other insects would cease to call and that the larger land animals such as the elephants would move away from the shore and to higher ground. In the ocean, the dolphins would swim away from the land and out to deeper water.

To know the story is one thing. To be aware enough each day to notice what the dolphins and cicadas are doing and if it is different from what they usually do is another. The Moken had both knowledge and awareness. Though they couldn’t communicate with each other, boat by boat and group by group all along the coast they saw the signs and listened to what the story of Laboon had said to do. On land they followed the animals to higher ground, and at sea they followed the dolphins farther out into the ocean. Amid all the devastation of the tsunami that day, not a single Moken died. They had all moved out of harm’s way.

Try: As in the story of the Moken, it is possible for humans to both know what to do and when to do it regarding this planet and our own well-being. Reflect for a moment on the question of what stories guide you in your own life and cultures. Which ones are not being told? What actions can you take now that will help preserve the well-being of this planet, our shared home? What would it look like to reclaim the level of awareness and ability to respond in the moment that the Moken have?

One of the ways the Moken people developed such a keen awareness of their place was just by being in it often, in a particular way with purpose. There is a tried-and-true technique that peoples all over the world practice, which is known by different names. It was introduced to me by storyteller, wildlife tracker, author, and friend Jon Young as a sit spot.

Choose a place less than five minutes from where you live. It’s important that it is easy for you to get to. Ideally, it is in a natural area, but you will need to work with what you’ve got. A bench in a park or a backyard or some quiet spot off the beaten trail will work great. Vast wilderness is not necessary. This is your sit spot.

Over the next month, go there several times a week and just sit. Go at different times. Go in different weather. Just go, and just be. Bring a childlike spirit of inquisitiveness and start watching the story of your spot unfold. Let yourself be absorbed into and become part of the flow. It will take around twenty minutes for the baseline natural rhythms to return after you settle down in a natural area. Bring your awareness to what the birds and animals are doing. See who reveals themselves as you sit quietly. Notice shifts in the wind and weather. Witness the plants around you grow and change over the months. Let the deep awareness of this place infuse into you. Over time, you will feel yourself becoming a true resident of your place and not simply a tourist.