"The Art of Porch Sitting" by Albert Coney Heirich A Simple Introduction In 1996, I turned off the television. One month later I gave the old set away. I had grown weary of the increasing number of channels that offered nothing more than mind-numbing broadcasts of violence, anger and stale humor. It had become a constant barrage of jingles for products I didn’t want or need; of actors and actresses I cared nothing about, and story lines that focused on the darker side of humanity. It wasn’t really a difficult decision. The hardest part was having to carry the heavier-than-it-ought-to-be box down the stairs. I don’t remember who I gave the thing to and I doubt that after 12 years it is still in working condition. It was a decision that changed my life. At first it was difficult to find activities to fill the void that the loss of the glowing box brought. Reading filled some of my newly acquired free time along with painting and quiet pondering, but I found that my senses had returned and needed stimulation. I began to realize how much damage sitting and staring for so many years had done to the gifts that God had given me. I was living on main street in Telluride, Colorado at the time and I tried to sit on the porch and read. It was futile. Traffic noise, folks strolling by – often stopping to say hi or ask about the old historic mining shack I called home – and honks from friends as they drove the only street into town made getting involved in any book nearly impossible. I began to gradually read less while porch sitting, replaced with watching the world around me. At first, I saw the obvious. Clouds moving and shape-shifting into whatever my imagination decided they should be, dents in an old Ford pick-up spewing exhaust as it noisily passed by or a spider carefully maneuvering the stone walkway as it struggled to go to wherever it was heading. They were things I had missed previously and I found myself curious about them. Was the spider actually going to a particular place or was it just on a walk about? Did anyone else see the pirate with his sword held high in the cumulus cloud that lazily moved west high above me? Did the old cowboy driving the faded red truck even care that it was banged and beaten and did he wonder, as I did, about the pride the original owner must have felt as it was driven off the lot, shiny and new, back in 1974? These whimsical ponderings eventually led to deeper insight; each forming a path to places I had probably known about but never bothered to explore. I found myself becoming obsessed with every detail about my immediate surroundings; the chipped and peeling paint on the leaning post struggling to hold up the roof; the small wren uniquely different than its noisy song-mates in the lilac bush; the sad facial expression of the pretty girl strolling by, oblivious to my curiosity about what would cause her to frown and miss the beauty of the day. Each question clearing yet another path to a mental adventure, which in turn forced even more pondering. It became a wonderful circle of enlightenment. I started wondering and analyzing greed, loneliness, joy, nature, the misshaped windows across the street and the waddling fat man eating ice cream as it dripped down his hand onto his shirt sleeve. There were no experts telling me what they all meant, if anything, as done on the television that was now enslaving the long forgotten friend I had gifted it to. My mind had made a jail break – over the fence and through the woods with the barking guard dogs of shiny noisy crap fading far behind me. I would never allow them to catch up and return me to the cell block that most in America were confined to. Until I was freed, it was impossible to fully grasp how enslaved I really was. It is this freedom that I intend to share with you. An art, both free and priceless. It requires no expensive canvas, brushes or acrylic paints, no long hours in a classroom and virtually no studying what-so-ever. It is a simple thing long forgotten, a beautiful thing often overlooked. It is what saved my sanity and if given the chance, it will save yours as well. It is the lost art of porch sitting. Enjoy.
Posted on: Mon, 15 Jul 2013 17:41:42 +0000
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