Heartblind
Several years ago I had the pleasure of interviewing Hank Shaw, an American outdoorsman, foraging expert, and chef. Hank has spent his life straddling his love of the wild and his love of preparing excellent food, whereas I have spent my life hoping that a private chef would wander into my home and take over my kitchen.
We talked about land management, his favorite salt, and beginner tips for foraging (things like, any berry that grows in clusters like a blackberry or raspberry is safe to eat, whereas berries that are singular in shape like a blueberry can often be deadly).
During our conversation, Hank described a phenomenon that I had not heard of before: the condition of being Greenblind. Greenblind describes the experience of being in the woods and not being able to differentiate between all the different trees, grasses, bushes, and plants. Instead of seeing a dozen different species we see, well… green.
He was describing me, unfortunately.
Thankfully being Greenblind isn’t a moral failing, but more a reflection of ignorance, a lack of study, or perhaps just being a beginner in the space. In the years since, I have made some increased effort to notice the different types of wildflowers that grow here in Colorado, and I have experienced an increase in joy and presence when I am out for a walk with my family and we comment on the way the Juniper has grown, the intensity of the Indian Paintbrush, the red of the Dogwood, or the contrast of the Columbine.
Since then I have wondered if this condition exists in other areas of life and I think that the answer is obviously, yes. Put me in an auto-parts store and I am Metalblind. As my wife can attest, I am also more than a little Tonedeaf. When I find myself in a group of guys talking about the Super Bowl I begin to wonder if we can dub a term, Sportsblind.
One that I am particularly curious about is something I’ve started calling: Heartblind. This would be the condition of feeling disconnected from our internal world, our emotions, and the story of our heart.
Let me give you an example. Just the other day I was driving home with my family from a vespers service in the evening. The time had been peaceful and my wife and children were calm while we were there, but as soon as we got into our car to drive home something changed and the kids began fighting with each other, yelling, and generally ignoring their parents' attempts to calm them down. As the noise built I felt something inside snap and all I felt was anger. Anger at the noise. Anger at the lack of being listened to. Anger at my own anger… which is a really fun merry-go-round.
I knew in the moment what I was feeling, but it seemed disproportionate and I could not have put words to why I was feeling so strongly. Whatever is hysterical is historical.
Only a few days later did I have the time and the space to begin exploring what the history might be around my over-the-top reaction, and thus seek to cure some of my heartblindness. Without taking the time to be curious about my internal world and the story of my heart, my reactions and emotions will always be a mystery.
If I went foraging before my conversation with Hank, I would probably not have risked much… assuming that every mushroom, berry, and root is poisonous. I needed a guide to help me cure some of my Greenblindedness, and the same has gone for my Heartblindedness. In both, embracing a posture of curiosity, courage, and compassion have been necessary to take the first steps.
