Observation in isolation

I haven’t posted to social media in over a year. Frankly, it’s been a blessed relief, but a couple have things have elbowed me back into this cacophonous world.

First off, this damn pandemic is changing the fabric and flow of our lives, pushing us indoors making our and our virtual social sphere more important than ever.

Secondly, and more significantly, I started a Permaculture Diploma earlier this year. This is a self-led study where I have to produce a folio of 10 designs over a minimum of 2 years. Without getting into the definitions of Permaculture right now, or why I’d want to do such a thing, let me just tell you that it involves a lot of conscious observation - observation of the self, of surroundings, and of the communities and environments in which your designs take place. Observation is key, but is really only made meaningful via recording and reflecting what you’ve seen, felt and experienced. There are so many details we’re convinced we’ll remember, but which ultimately get lost in a fog of doubt or distraction, and then many patterns we don’t see until we’ve gained perspective via the distance of time.

I’ve been recommended to make observation/reflection a habit. Now that I have a lot more time on my hands (thanks, Coronoavirus!) I thought it would be a good idea to revive this old blog, and put it to some good use by recording my observations as I move towards completing the diploma. I’ve already appreciated reading online Permaculture journeys of other diploma students, and I also reckon that sharing this stuff online forces you to make more considered, more insightful reflections. Well, lets see.

So I thought I’d write about two things; my permaculture journey and the 10 designs I work on (ultimately, this will make up some kind of portfolio), and a record of the happenings, developments and adventures at my new home.

This record will be helpful partly because our garden will be the basis for at least one of my designs, but it’s also out of necessity, given that we’re all going to be spending a great deal more time at home over the next few months. Permaculture has already taught me that careful, consistent observation - something that very few of us ever feel we have time to do - can reveal previously unknown worlds within the mundane and familiar. It’s amazing how much you can learn right on your doorstep. Admittedly, my partner and I are lucky to have quite an extensive doorstep - our wee cottage has an acre of land around it, and then the rolling Borders countryside beyond that. But in any case, there’s always more to your surroundings than you might at first think. We are high up on a moor (210m/688ft) and before we moved I was immensely sceptical about the environment here. I had a pretty firm preconception that this area was too weather-beaten and bleak to be beautiful or bountiful. As a girl who grew up in a wooded valley, moorland seemed like a blank space; monotonous in colour and wildlife. But I have been continually surprised by the diversity of birds and creatures, dramatic weather and light, and the incredible beauty that reveals itself.

Since we moved here I’ve been keeping a very basic observation journal, and its something I’d really recommend to anyone - particularly right now. It doesn’t matter if you’re not also doing a permaculture diploma or whether you share it online or not. I’m putting mine here to get over a fear of writing, and so I can easily incorporate it into my online portfolio later. But I don’t really mind it no-one but me and my tutor ever read it.

So far I’ve observed that noting what I see, hear and sense everyday helps attune me to my surroundings in unexpected ways. I’d recommend it as an antidote to isolation, too, as I think it helps you stay connected to the outside and inside world in a very direct way. Give it a shot and keep me company.