Show up, slow down, and discover that what you focus on has the power to shape who you are.
By Matthew Clark
I live in Mississippi, which means, if it’s summertime you just don’t go outside, if you don’t have to. But there are those mornings, before the sun has gotten ahold of things, when the back porch at my house is fine for sitting and watching the world wake up.
One of those fine mornings in early August, I was sitting on the porch when I noticed a baby chameleon out of the corner of my eye. He appeared suddenly from the grass and skittered a foot or two onto the gray concrete square of the patio. He stopped, cocked his head to one side as if considering me carefully, and then darted another foot in my direction. A curious fellow.
I sat still and remembered something my Grandmother Mal used to say. In one of her oft repeated tales she told of a time when some stinging insect came a bit too close and she decided to address it. It was a fellow creature, after all, with a shared origin in the heart of the same Creator God. Why not? “Dear Bee,” she said, “You’ve lost your way, and need to turn around and go elsewhere, little friend.” Of course, she assured me in the telling, the fellow creature understood perfectly and headed off in another direction.
These kinds of anecdotes always delighted me, and I decided to try it myself. Why not?
“Hello there, little friend,” I said to my tiny green neighbor. He cocked his head like an inquisitive puppy. “It’s good to see you this morning, I happen to know the one who made us both, and you’re welcome to enjoy this porch and this fine morning with me.” He shot several more feet in my direction. I sat still and continued to address him. Before long, he hopped up onto my bare foot, where he sat perfectly content for about 15 minutes. Eventually, he scooted on and began the workaday, catching bugs, climbing branches, practicing changing colors, and whatever else chameleons spend their days doing.
I mentioned this on social media, and folks wanted pictures. I had no pictures, because I had deliberately excluded my phone from porch-sitting that morning. I’m as addicted to my phone as anybody else, I’ll admit. So, I’m trying to draw some lines. When I do, I find that the world is bigger and more beautiful than I’d thought. When I’m available, it shows up.
It is costly to “pay” attention. These days, it takes deliberate effort to cultivate presence and attention in a barrage of distractions.
“When information becomes abundant, attention becomes the scarce resource,” writes James Williams. “We call our time the Information Age, but I think a better name for it would be the ‘Age of Attention.”[1]
There’s so much cloying for our attention, preying upon it, consuming it. And here’s the kicker, if you’re like me, you feel a slithering sense of shame for not keeping up with it all!
Attention is precious. Your presence in this world is precious. Haven’t you felt the drop in your stomach as you attempt to show up in some deep way with another person, only to sense the gift of presence is not mutual? That other person is not really there. On the other hand, how sweet it can be when a real meeting takes place between two people. That, I believe, is what we are made for.
The quality of our attention shapes the quality of our lives. Scripture, Psalm 115 for example, tells us that what we pay attention to will change us into its likeness. What if it’s a machine that doesn’t really hear us, see us, care about our story, that’s unresponsive to our prayers? What ought we expect but a life full of meaningless jabber, and a love defined transactionally, leaving us dopamine-frazzled and finally just as starved for real nourishment as ever.
This whole beautiful Creation, the Scriptures, and those we meet daily (even if they’re just baby chameleons on the porch) are bearing witness to a different way of being in the world. The Creator has turned his face toward us in a billion different ways, and we can choose where to place our attention. If we turn this precious gift in his direction, we are connecting to something that hears, sees, loves, responds, and can fill our hungry hearts with the bread of heaven. That kind of attention will change us. It is the only way we can hope to have our ears opened, our sight restored, and hearts of stone raised up as hearts of flesh.
Matthew Clark is a singer/songwriter and author from Mississippi. He has published seven full-length albums, two books, and is currently working on Where the River Goes, the third in a trilogy of albums and books, coming early 2025. He also hosts a podcast, One Thousand Words–Stories on the Way, writes for Cultivating Magazine, and plays concerts around the country. Find out more: www.matthewclark.net and on Instagram @matthewclarknet
[1] James Williams, Stand Out of Our Light: Freedom and Resistance in the Attention Economy (Cambridge University Press, 2018); accessed online at https://tinyurl.com/yj7f6k3v.