The Intentional Observer

Airport Terrariums and Life Microcosms

Read aloud:

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The winter of 2014 was the season of Winter Storm Maximus. He laid snow blankets across southern states whose front yards looked like snow globes their inhabitants had only ever held. He barricaded the northern doors shut. He wreaked havoc and created a wonderland all at once. 

And for me, he distinguished the ordinary from the magical. 

That winter, I became a hostage of the Philadelphia airport. A prisoner of her boring beige walls and her coarse charcoal carpet. Gate agents shouted delay notices that were impossible to hear through screechy microphone distortions and shrilling babies. Grumblings from annoyed passengers reverberated noisily. 

I was eating Twizzlers impatiently when the gate agent’s defeated voice came over the intercom. They were shutting all gates down until stated otherwise. It no longer mattered where I was going or where I was coming from, I was stuck - all alone - in the Philadelphia airport - red licorice in hand. 

A zoo of commotion erupted in the terminal. Children clucked, fathers fluttered, and mothers meowed. Emotions added singsong to the animal anarchy soundtrack, barking, buzzing, bellowing. Chattering, clicking,  chirping. 

Erratic explosions everywhere. 

I watched elderly couples with enchanting smile lines bury their heads into one another’s delicate skin. Swans. Parents coddled babies sharing glances of desperation. Bears. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a pinstripe suit with black hair that just started to show signs of aging approaches me. Snake. The wind whistled, whipping against the terminal windows. Hi, he says in a New York Italian accent. We chat. I am short-winded, distracted by the wild ensemble in front of me. He leaves me with his business card; it reads “Coffee in NY - Tom.” Facebook tells me Tom is married with two children. I roll my eyes, snow gusts roll outside. Indians, Asians, Americans, black folks and white folks, she’s, he's, and they’s collided - an international wildlife crossing completely out of control.

Beautiful chaos. Unreal yet so alive. 

I was in an airport terrarium - a miniature version of life contained within glass walls. The diversity was vibrant, the emotions were colorful. 

Airports are a microcosm for life I thought as the snow built the terrarium walls even higher.

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That day, when the planes stopped running, I was transported - not physically but metaphysically - to a new perspective. As I watched a miniature replica of life unfold in front of me, I was reminded of the power of observation. 

But that right there is the key piece: the planes stopped running. I had nowhere to be other than present, and nothing to do other than observe. 

In everyday life I have just barely enough time to brush my teeth, let alone sit around and people-watch. I learned that day that observation - an awareness through sensory processing - is passive. Awareness is merely a catalyst for intentional observation: passive observation’s active counterpart. 

A passive observer is attuned to their senses. They see colors and shapes. They detect emotions and read body language. A passive observer is aware but the world they are aware of is ordinary.

The world of the intentional observer is like the vibrant pages of a whimsical children's book. 

In the land of intentional observation, we witness the untamed, wild side of humanity. The tempestuous, raw side of emotion. Newborns look more like mourning doves with fragile pink legs perched in high nests seeing life for the first time. Women soar through storm-tossed clouds with Indian headdresses of decorated wings. Men swing through raintop canopies, playful cajoling echos off trees. In this land, we watch the lives that are just as beautifully vivid and complex as our own awaken; we allow their condition to become our own. 

When I transition from a passive observer to an intentional observer, my senses are set on fire. I see and hear with my whole body - feeling sounds in my toes, seeing with my hands and my feet. I pierce the veil of the surface seeking the hidden, guarding the overlooked. I view my surroundings through a panoramic camera lens. The world is a never-ending canvas, a garden of wonders, a symphony in motion. As an intentional observer, I am less biased. I see infinitesimal complexity but don’t seek to label it or categorize it. I probe deeper. I hunt for the magic in the mundane. 

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When I left the airport terrarium, passive observation surpassed intentional observation. Fantastic beats still lurked around corners, but as they dwindled I felt less.

Less like the inside of a children’s book and more like the inside of a cardboard box. 

When I intentionally observe I cease to question my purpose in the world. I study my surroundings, I work to understand them, and I am willing to tend to the garden of life when it needs tending. Therefore, I understand where my life fits amidst all the madness. That is the power of intentional observation. 

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I am not encouraging you to get locked in an airport. I’m encouraging you to seek opportunities for intentional observance instead of waiting on luck and circumstance to create it. 

Create your own terrarium. 

And when you’re inside the glass walls, be still, let your gaze widen and your judgments dissipate. Observe without an agenda or purpose - observe for the sake of observing. Watch the hidden patterns and rhythms of life bubble to the surface. Allow your senses to play with the fabric of reality. 

You don’t need hours, you need minutes. Maybe after you’re done reading this or while you’re waiting in line at the coffee shop tomorrow. Be still, let your gaze widen and your judgments dissipate.

It is not about what you do, it is about what you see. 

What did you see today?

Did you see the magic?