to Part V of A Geography of the Lifeworld
[from David Seamon, A Geography of the Lifeworld, copyright
1979, 2003 David Seamon]
[please note:
Not all figures in Part IV are yet adapted to Web format]
Part IV
ENCOUNTER WITH THE
GEOGRAPHICAL WORLD
The earth is all before me.
With a heart Joyous, nor scared
at its own liberty, I look about
--William Wordsworth (1936, p.495)
CHAPTER 12
PERCEPTION AND THE CONTINUUM OF AWARENESS
My wife is getting blind; on the whole she is glad of it. There is nothing worth seeing. She says she hopes she will also become deaf; for there is nothing worth hearing—Strindberg (cited in de Grazia 1972, p.473).
I round a curve on the road and suddenly notice that brilliant autumn foliage ahead; I enter a corner grocery store and observe that its doors have recently been repainted; I wait for a bus and watch the children skating on the pond across the street. In each of these experiences, a part of my awareness has touched and been touched by an aspect of the geographical world; a strand of attention is present between me and the trees, the building, the pond as a place of activity. These moments are all representative of encounter—any situation of attentive contact between the person and the world at hand.1
Unlike movement and rest, which are both clearly observable phenomena in the natural world, encounter is less obvious because it deals with inner situation as well as external entity or event. The student can easily conclude through observation that a rock is resting or that a cat may have a daily time-space routine. To observe encounter in other forms of life besides man, however, is more difficult because there is not easy way to detail inner situation as it meets external world.2
The possibility that other entities in nature besides people encounter their surrounding world is frequently met with skepticism by contemporary scientists and the general public. Primitive and traditional cultures, however, often, held that animals, trees, rocks and places possessed a certain awareness of themselves and their world (Gutkind, 1956; Eliade, 1957; Searles, 1960; White, 1967; Relph, 1976b), and recent studies provide some supporting evidence for such beliefs (Schwenk, 1961; Backster, 1968; Roszak, 1969 and 1973). As conventional science accepts the existence of finer, less readily identified phenomena, perhaps the possibility of encounter for other entities besides man will explored and it will nor seem so strange to speak in the 'sentience' of a rock, or the 'spirit' of place (Bane, 1969; Durrell, 1969; Roszak, 1973; Seamon 1978a).
Encounter has generally been described in terms of perception in traditional philosophy and psychology. Perceptions refers to 'the way an observer relates to his environment' (Murch, 1973, cited in Ittelson et al., 1974, p.103). Perception, says Allport,
has something to do with our awareness of the objects or conditions about us. It is dependent to a large extent upon the impressions these objects make upon our senses. It is the wy things look to us, or the way they sound, feel, taste, or smell. But perceptions also involves, to some degree, an understanding awareness, a 'meaning' or a 'recognition' of these objects (1955, p.14).
Perception, like spatial behavior, has most often been described in terms of behaviorist or cognitive theories.3 Perception, argue the behaviorists, it the process by which stimuli outside the person becomes signals for the receipt or non-receipt of a reinforcer (Ittelson et al., 1974, p. 66): I notice the autumn foliage, for example, because a similar situation in the past has favorably aroused my attention and works as a positive reinforcement for my noticing in the present moment.
The environment is a source of information, say the cognitive theorists in contrast. They suggest that I, the observer, take some active part in receiving and structuring the impressions of trees -- that is, my perceptual systems does not passively absorb their impact as a learned result or past reinforcement, but rather, has an initiating role in my acceptance or rejection of them. This approach to perception has been called the 'information-processing view' (Ittelson et al., ibid., pp. 109-13) because the person is likened to a cybernetic device which applies a machine-like, deciding process to the perceptual data.
The cognitive approach to perception, unlike its behaviorist counterpart, has had significant impact on behavioral geography. It is the theoretical structure underlying most models of environmental perception in geography (e.g. Downs, 1970) and guides specific empirical research, as, for example, work in landscape assessment and preference (e.g. Zube (ed.), 1976).
Perception, viewed phenomenologically, is 'the medium of intercourse between the world that is known and the person who perceives and knows it' (Keen, 1972, p. 91. italics in original). Neglect of the experiential aspects of this 'medium of intercourse' is a major weakness of both cognitive and behaviorist theories. They ignore the possibility that moments of perception may vary in quality and intensity.
Some students of perception recognize at least in theory that perception is not of uniform impact (e.g. Hirst, 1967, p.80). In practice, however, the varying intensities of perception are usually forgotten. It is studied instead according to categories derived from the five senses (sight, sound, touch, taste, smell) or the external world (color, form and shape, movement of objects, illusions, space, time, or some similar theme).4
To explore moments of perception happening as experiences is the aim here. I seek to resurrect the experiential integrity or perception before it has been reduced and flattened by a particular psychological or philosophical theory. A moment of encounter is integrally related to other aspects of the moment, including mood, energy level, past experience and knowledge.
At different moments, the person pays more or less attention to the world at hand. At times, he is intensely aware of the environment and may even feel that he is in perceptual union with it. After Krawetz (1975), I identify encounters of this sort by the term tendency towards mergence because there is a break in the boundary between person (self) and world (non-self); in figurative terms, the person merges with his environment.
At other times, the person is very oblivious to the world at hand and gives it no notice. I identify the term tendency towards separateness with these kinds of encounters because the person is directing is attention inwardly, and is separate (in terms of awareness) from the world at hand.
Even in situations of extreme separateness, however, the preconscious perceptual abilities of body subject are at work, guarding the person from any unexpected dangers that the environment might impose, and assisting with any gestures or movements that the person is required to make even as his more conscious attention is directed elsewhere.
Encounter is not one kind of experience but several, whose sum may perhaps be best described as an awareness continuum that incorporates on one side encounters tending toward mergence, and on the other encounters tending toward separateness (Figure 12.1). Exploring the nature of encounter leads to a better understanding of how human beings attentively meet the places, spaces and landscape that are their surrounds. This knowledge has considerable import for research on specific environmental perceptions as well as for environmental education. In addition, it can be asked how various kinds of encounters relate to a situation of at-homeness.
Figure 12.1. Modes of Encounter: An Awareness Continuum
tendency toward tendency toward
person-environment <-----------------> person-environment
separateness mergence
Notes
1. Though my concern is with the geographical world, I recognize at the start that the encounter extends to all other aspects of the world—its interpersonal, social, cultural, economic, historical, spiritual dimensions. The person watching the pond, for example, is participating in interpersonal and social encounter, since he is looking at people and their interactions, as well as absorbing the atmosphere of investigates all encounter—not just the geographical world. The illustrations of encounter in this book involve attentive contact with aspects of the physical non-human environment, and also include examples of encounter with people, things, places and events housed within these places.
2. Even for human beings, scientific devices such as lie detectors can measure recordable dimensions of inner situation such as pulse rate or muscle tension, but cannot provide an account of that situation as it is in experiential terms.
3. A good philosophical introduction to perception is Hirst, 1967. Merleau-Ponty's Phenomenology of Perception (1962) is perhaps the most penetrating critique of traditional philosophical and psychological approaches to perception. Ultimately, perception is a key notion in Merleau-Ponty's own philosophical conception of human experience, but his definition is considerable different from empirical (behaviorist) and rationalist (cognitive) interpretations.
As with spatial behavior, there are not two theories of perception but several. In addition to the major divisions between behaviorist and cognitive theories, there is also the gestalt approach to perception that marks a significant third interpretation. See Allport (1955) for an overview of these various approach.
4. For examples of these divisions, see Schiffman (1976).
CHAPTER 13
FLUCTUATION, OBLIVIOUSNESS AND WATCHING
It's strange how the world is for me. At times I know I'm not seeing anything. I'm so caught up with my own self inside that the world has no chance to penetrate. Sunday morning, for example, I went for a walk down Main Street. The trees seemed so beautiful and alive. I hadn't seen them in that way in a long time. I was feeling good— in a calm and quiet mood. I happened to meet my old girlfriend who said something that really hurt me. I kept walking but now that walk was completely different. I was full of anger inside and didn't notice a thing. It was like a barrier had been put up. My anger and bad thoughts blocked out the possibility of seeing that way I had a few minutes before—a group member (3.1.2).
Encounter with the world at hand is constantly fluctuating, becoming more or less sharp as the person's attention moves between inner and outer concerns. 'Sometimes', said one group member, 'I'm very close to the world and other times distant and non-alert.' 'Some days I don't notice a thing... Other days will seem fresh' (3.1.1). Even in a matter of seconds, degree of awareness to the world can drastically shift; strong contact at one moment may lead to lack of contact next. Note the change in the chapter's opening observation. The group member, satisfied and serene, has penetrated the boundary between self and world: the trees are 'beautiful and alive.' The chance meeting with a former girlfriend, however, erects an inner 'barrier', and the outward encounter is lost.
Awareness of the world continually advances and retreats like the action of waves on shore. Each moment of encounter is unique, of a specific intensity and quality of contact not to be exactly duplicated in other moments. Underneath the flux and variety, however, are a certain few kinds of encounter that can be called obliviousness, noticing, watching, heightened contact, and basic contact. These modes are not exact points of encounter, but rather imprecise benchmarks summarizing a particular range of encounters on the wider continuum of awareness described in Chapter 12.
Obliviousness
Obliviousness refers to any situation in which the experiencer's conscious attention is not in touch with the world outside but directed inwardly—to thoughts, feelings, imaginings, fantasies, worries or bodily states which have nothing or little to do with the world at hand. Obliviousness implies not a cessation of all attention but only that directed outwardly.
Obliviousness occurs in all variety of contexts. One group member, 'caught up in thought about the week ahead', missed a turnpike exit (3.3.2). A second group member, walking hurriedly, passed by a friend without noticing him (3.2.2). Another group member, lost in thought, suddenly noticed a friend walking in front of her whom she was oblivious to a moment before:
I was not conscious of his presence, and it surprised me when I noticed him that I hadn't seen him before I did. He was there in front of me several seconds, yet it took a bit of time before I consciously realized he was there (3.2.1).
Obliviousness extends to activities, especially those involving drudgery or repetition. 'When I'm working at my job as a dishwasher,” said one group member, 'I rarely pay attention to what I'm doing. It's easier to daydream or think about what I'll do after work' (3.5.2). Sometimes, people forget if they have completed a certain portion of a job. 'In housekeeping it's easy to go off in a daze,' said one group member who couldn't remember if she had vacuumed one corner of a room and cleaned it again to be sure(3.4.1). People may actually encourage a state of obliviousness as they work. Said one group member, asked why she sang as she did cleaning chores, 'Well, you've got to do something to take your attention off washing up'(3.5.1).
Although obliviousness is sometimes associated with positive inner states (3.3.5); it more often occurs in situations of sickness, hurry or negativity. 'I just look at the ground and try to get where I have to go. There's no energy left to notice things' (3.3.4). Times of hectic activity may close the person to the world beyond. 'I'm always running around,' said one group member, “thinking about what I should do next... In times like these, I don't notice many things around me' (3.3.1). Anger is especially effective in blocking out awareness, as the person meeting his girlfriend indicates. Sometimes the anger may sever the person entirely from the situation at hand and he may make a mistake (3.7.2).
Negativity and tiredness make it extremely difficult to attend the world at hand, even if one becomes aware of his obliviousness. Said one person, walking home and tired from a long bus ride:
When I got off the bus, I noticed how miserable I felt, tired and hungry. I just wanted to stop traveling. About half the walk was over before I noticed that everything was passed me by. I wasn't making connection at all. I saw my situation and tried to get more into the environment. But five seconds later I had drifted off again. I was so 'tuned out' that I went trudging across some grass that was a shortcut. I didn't notice it until the deed was done and then had a good laugh at myself (3.15.3).
Obliviousness is a range of experiences in which the person is more or less unaware of the world at hand. On the awareness continuum, obliviousness is associated with the tendency towards separateness; it is placed on the extreme left as in Figure 13.1.
Figure 13.1: The Place of Obliviousness on the Awareness Continuum
tendency towards obliviousness tendency towards
person-environment person-environment
separateness mergence
Watching
Watching is a situation in which the person looks out attentively upon some aspect of the world for an extended period of time. Watching is of different types and intensities, ranging from a sporadic, weakly directed variety to strong emotional and bodily involvement (Figure 13.2).
Watching of the weakest intensity occurs in situations where the person is only peripherally concerned with the world at hand. His attention wanders back and forth between inner and outer concerns. Consider a group member relaxing on a dormitory lawn:
Figure 13.2: The Place of Watching on the Awareness Continuum
tendency towards watching tendency towards
person-environment person-environment
separateness mergence
I was sitting on the lawn in front of Wright Hall Tuesday afternoon watching people, seeing who was going where. I wasn't watching anything or anyone in particular just looking. It's relaxing. I must have sat there an hour or more, taking in the atmosphere. I'm not saying I was watching the scene the whole time. Sometimes I'd be 'into myself', thinking about things or worrying about school work I should be doing. I was lost in thoughts for a while, then noticing something, on and on (3.8.1).
At other times, watching may be more intense as the interest, beauty or excitement or the scene draws the person's attention there and holds it. One group member, sitting on a park bench, watched ducks on the pond before her. 'It was like watching a movie,' she explained(3.8.2). Another group member, spectating at an automobile race, described a watching considerably more intense. His body and his attention were involved in the spectacle at hand:
There were three racers scrambling to the lead, and no one had a clear edge. A friend owns one of the cars, and I was cheering for him. I got really involved— standing, jumping, shouting encouragement. Everyone in the grandstand was up and screaming and waving. It was an experience. It was like tumbling back to another world when the race ended(3.8.3).
Watching requires activity and movement. People do not normally watch things and places that are inactive. Busy pavements, noisy ducks, racing automobiles foster noticing in the above examples. Who would watch empty streets, an unused pond, a dormant speedway? Such situations are neutral backdrops and normally do not capture the experiencer's attention.
People often generate the activity and movement responsible for watching. 'Nobody', says Jacobs (1961, p.35),'enjoys sitting on a stoop or looking out of a window at an empty street. Almost nobody does such a thing. Large numbers of people entertain themselves, off and on, by watching street activity. 'Place ballet is a focus of watching. People are attracted to movement and bustle; the become watchers who in turn become additional participants in the place ballet. 'The sight of people attracts still other people', says Jacobs (ibid., p.37). She goes on to describe a stretch of upper Broadway in New York City along which much watching occurs:
People's love of watching activity and other people is constantly evident in cities everywhere. This trait reaches an almost ludicrous extreme in upper Broadway in New York, where the street is divided by a narrow central mall, right in the middle of traffic. At the cross-street intersections of this long north-south mall, benches have been placed behind big concrete buffers and on any day when the weather is even barely tolerable these benches are filled with people at block after block, watching the pedestrians who cross the mall in front of them, watching the traffic, watching the people on the busy sidewalks, watching each other.
Watching adds to the dynamism of place ballet. Its watchers, especially if they participate regularly, work as unknowing caretakers. They regularly watch their place, not for remuneration but because it is the taken-for-granted thing to do. Perhaps they offer assistance to strangers or notify the police when trouble occurs. 'Thousands upon thousands of people,” says Jacobs (ibid., p.38),'casually take care of the streets. They notice strangers. They observe everything going on.'
Regular watchers are familiar and comfortable with their place—they are at home there. They feel responsible for place and work to protect and care for it. Such concern can arise only where watcher-participants know each other and the regularities of place. These people can count on mutual support in times of trouble and are willing to exert proprietorship when the place is threatened in some way.
Watching establishes an extended span of attention between person and place. To watch is to pay attention at length to the world at hand—to have one's interest occupied as mutually the world receives that interest. Normally, watching does not arise because of conscious planning on the part of the watcher, but because the world automatically attracts and holds the watcher's interest in some way. Watching is essential for places filled with human activity because it demands and sustains behaviors that are publicly proper for the particular place. One means of fostering watching, therefore, is to foster place ballet. This possibility is considered further in Chapter 19.
CHAPTER 14
NOTICING AND HEIGHTENED CONTACT
We walked by an alley that I'd not noticed before...It was something I had never seen, yet I had passed that place many times. I don't know what caused me to notice it—a group member (3.10.1).
Noticing is sudden. A thing from which we were insulated a moment before flashes to our attention. Noticing is self-grounded or world-grounded. Personal knowledge and past experience trigger the former; some striking characteristic of the world sparks the latter.
Incongruity, surprise, contrast and attractiveness (or its opposite, unattractiveness) are all characteristics that activate world-grounded noticing. One group member, travelling through a wilderness area, unexpectedly cam upon a 'huge man-made machine' in the middle of a stream. 'It stopped us,' she explained. 'It seemed out of place and took our attention' (3.11.1). Another group member, riding on a turnpike, became aware suddenly that he had arrived in Delaware because the texture and color of the road changed (3.11.4). A third group member described the sudden impact that a sunny field of freshly harvested pumpkins had (3.12.3), while yet another group member took notice of a bank building because it was 'round and hideously designed' (3.12.3).
The world grabbing one's awareness is the mark of world-grounded noticing. 'Took our attention' in the first report encapsulates well the experiencer's passive role: attention is immediately 'taken up' by the machine because it contrasts so completely with the taken-for-granted wilderness through which the group member has traveled for the past several days. She has little choice not to notice.
Person-grounded noticing gives the individual a more active role in awareness. It generally involves things about which the person wants to know more. Wish and need to understand provide a context of interest out of which noticing may occur, but do not guarantee noticing. The instant of awareness, like world-grounded noticing, is spontaneous and unexpected.
Consider the following account dealing with colored shadows, a common phenomenon in the everyday environment, but one which most people usually don't notice.1 The report indicates two variations of person-grounded noticing: one where the group member looks actively and then notices; the other where noticing occurs spontaneously. In both cases, the actual moment of seeing is sudden and uncontrolled:
I never used to notice colored shadows—in fact, I never knew they existed. Yet because I took a course that spent a lot of time studying them, I've become aware of colored shadows and look for them when I think of them. I notice them often now, especially in the streets at night. The best thing is that the more I notice colored shadows, the more I look for them. At first, I was aware of them only rarely, but now I notice them quite often. It's not that I walk down the street saying to myself, 'Okay, it's time for you to be conscious of colored shadows.' Rather, the thought of them will suddenly pop into mind, something in me will look, and maybe I spot one. Or sometimes, I'll be walking along in a daze, and I suddenly notice one. They jump out at me—I don't make any active effort to see them. It's as if they show themselves to me and I don't do a thing but respond to them (3.13.2).
Sometimes, says the group member, noticing occurs because he thinks about colored shadows and actively looks outward. This process is rapid, unfolding instantaneously in one smooth flow. 'The thought,” he says, 'will suddenly pop into mind, something in me will look, and maybe I';; spot one.' At other times the noticing is completely unexpected: 'I'll be walking along in a daze and suddenly I'll notice one.'
The unexpectedness of noticing follows no clear pattern. Different people notice different aspects of the same environment: a thing noticed one time may not be noticed at other times (3.9.1, 3.10.1). Noticing, suggests the above observation, leads to more noticing. 'The best thing', says the group member, 'is that the more I notice colored shadows, the more I look for them.' Training and interest provide some control of noticing. Ultimately, however, it is unpredictable, happening in moments for which the person cannot plan.
Inner state is closely related to noticing. Positive moods enhance noticing. One group member, pleased with the photographs he had done, spent an entire afternoon taking more pictures. 'I was noticing more than I usually do,' he said, 'and it had something to do with the fact that the photographs had come out so well' (3.15.2). Another group member, feeling exuberant after a rewarding discussion, found herself actively engaged with the park through which she walked, noticing a great deal:
It seemed that I was noticing a lot because I was feeling so good. The ducks on the pond, the colors reflecting on the water, the trees—I was very much aware of them. I was noticing more around me than I usually do (3.13.1).
Negative states may foster noticing, but of a sort that highlights the unpleasant and disturbing parts of the world. One group member noticed troublesome smells when she was negative (3.15.4), while another group member became aware of other people's unpleasant qualities (3.15.5). A third group member, describing a shopping trip, pointed out in detail the impact on noticing that negativity can have:
Last Thursday afternoon I went grocery shopping. Everything seemed to go wrong. The store was out of some things I needed, the cashier wouldn't accept my food stamps because I didn't have my identification card. I was angry. Everywhere I looked I saw another thing that showed in more detail what a mess the world was in. I remember noticing the four big metal pillars that hold up a huge electric sign for the supermarket where I had been shopping. There was this quick flash of annoyance in me that was saying, 'What a waste of resources—all that people in this crazy country know how to do is waste.' I was startled to see myself upset by so little a thing as a sign, but I couldn't shake my negativity. I went home and went to bed (3.15.6).
Noticing makes the unnoticed world known, without required participation or desire of the noticer. 'Sudden and unmeditated' are the essential characteristics of noticing. If it weren't an integral mode of human encounter, we would be required to direct each attentive contact with the world actively, just as, if there were no body-subject, we would need to direct each gesture and movement cognitively. Noticing brings the world directly to our awareness. Self and non-self come momentarily together through the power of attention.
Noticing involves a direct, attentive meeting between person and world, and therefore tends more towards an experience of mergence than watching. On the awareness continuum I place noticing as in Figure 14.1. Realizing that some watching may be more intense than noticing, I overlap the two, just as I did watching and obliviousness.
Figure 14.1: The Place of Noticing on the Awareness Continuum
tendency towards noticing tendency towards
person-environment person-environment
separateness mergence
Heightened Contact
In heightened contact, the person feels a serenity of mood and vividness of presence; his awareness of himself is heightened, and at the same time, the external world seems more real. Consider the following accounts:
I was sitting on my usual bench, facing the two brown houses and pine trees behind the court where I usually play tennis. As I was gazing at the pine trees, the sun went behind the clouds for a moment and some noisy birds flew over the houses. Suddenly, I felt very still but shivery inside. I felt quiet, I felt as if all the world was at peace. I felt warm towards everything (3.16.1).
One day this past summer I was driving across the Verrazano Bridge. All of a sudden I felt very high emotionally and in harmony with everything around me. The bridge stood out as a strong, all-consuming structure, yet at the same time, I felt connected to the bridge in some kind of spiritual way. The moment lasted as long as I was on the bridge. It was vivid and I clearly remember it (3.16.2).
On Wednesday, I visited a museum to do some research on the Shakers. I had driven quite far on the forested back roads, but the whole trip I hadn't really noticed anything. I was caught up in my thoughts. When I reached the museum I drove the car down the long driveway and parked it in the lot that overlooks a valley. As I got out, I had this strong experience. I felt a rush of warm spring air on my face, I breathed it, and then stood for several seconds overlooking the valley before me. I suddenly understood who the Shakers were and why they had chosen to live as they did. For the first time during my months of research, I felt that I could understand their love of order and beauty. It was as if I felt the heritage of that place pass through me (3.16.3).
A feeling of harmony with the world is one common element in these reports. 'At peace', 'warm towards everything', 'in harmony with everything', 'place pass through me' each suggest a self-non-self communion. Second, the experiencer feels more real. This vividness of presence is described as an inner tingling and quiet, as a spiritual moment—as a sense of reverence for time and place. Note, too, the importance of mood and physical environment. The person is quiet and receptive in the moment of contact; he or she seems unbothered and open. The environmental setting for these experiences all include natural features— water, vegetation, sunlight, birds. The size and beauty of the bridge and the extensive historical meanings of the museum indicate that immense overpowering environments or places grounded in significant history may provide important physical contexts for heightened encounter (Krawetz, 1975).
On the awareness continuum, heightened contact is the mode of encounter most tending towards person-world mergence (see Figure 14.2). The person feels joined and akin to the world. I overlap heightened encounter with noticing, since moments of the latter may lead to the former. Perhaps obliviousness and watching could also precede heightened contact, though probably not as often or readily.
Psychologists and social scientists in the past have often ignored or discounted heightened contact arguing that it is 'subjective', 'mystical', 'illusory' or 'epiphenomenal' (Roszak, 1969). In the past two decades, however, a few researchers have begun to study heightened contact and accept it as a genuine and significant mode of human encounter (e.g. Searles, 1960, Tuan, 1961, Maslow, 1968 and 1969, Roszak, 1969 and 1973). The psychiatrist Searles (ibid.), for example, has termed heightened contact relatedness with the environment. For the psychologically healthy person, he argues, it can serve several important functions: assuaging various painful and anxiety-laden states of feeling; fostering a stronger realization of self; deepening one's sense of reality; generating a stronger respect and acceptance of one's fellow men and women. The humanistic psychologist Abraham Maslow has studied what he calls peak experiences, which he believes all healthy persons have experienced sometimes in their lives; note the similarity to heightened contact:
These experiences mostly [have] nothing to do with religion—at least in the ordinary supernaturalistic sense. They [come] from the great moments of love and sex, from the great esthetic moments (particularly of music), from the bursts of creativeness and the creative furor (the great inspiration), from great moments of insight and discovery, from women giving natural birth to babies or just from loving them, from moments of fusion with nature (in a forest, on a seashore, mountains, etc.)...(1968, p.10, italics added).
Figure 14.2: The Place of Heightened Contact on the Awareness
Continuum
heightened
tendency towards contact tendency towards
person-environment person-environment
separateness mergence
Heightened contact is relevant to behavioral geography because, as Maslow suggests, it can involve the physical environment beyond the person. The need is to understand more thoroughly how the physical environment can enhance or inhibit heightened contact and also ask if any sorts of educational programs or techniques can work to help heightened contact happen.
Group observations indicate that heightened contact, like noticing, is unexpected and sudden. If this is the case, then perhaps education could foster a horizon of concern similar to that founding person-grounded noticing. This horizon would be a substantive area—for example, color, plants, water, topography—in terms of which heightened contact could happen (Schwenk, 1961; Seamon, 1976a, 1978a; Grange, 1977). Chapter 16 considers this possibility further, particularly as it might foster a stronger ecological consciousness.2
Notes
1. For their appearance, colored shadows require two conditions: (1) a colored light source—e.g. a street lamp projecting a colored light, and (2) a second light source, illuminating the shadow generated by the colored light—e.g. a second street light emitting a white or yellow light. The shadow cast by the colored light and illuminated by the second whiter light will be the color's complement; thus, a blue light will produce an orange shadow; a green, red. For further details, see Goethe, 1970.
2. Heightened contact has bearing on the nature of encounter for many traditional and so-called 'primitive' societies. 'Here we find people', writes Lee (1959, p.164) ; 'who do not so much seek communion with environing nature as find themselves in communion with it. In many of these societies, not even mysticism is to be found, in our sense of the word. For us, mysticism presupposes a prior separation of man from nature; and communion is achieved through loss of self and subsequent merging with that which is beyond; but for many other cultures, there is no such distinct separation between self and other, which must be overcome. Here, man is in nature already, and we cannot speak properly of man and nature.' This mode of encounter appears to be a kind of extended heightened contact. See Eliade, 1957; Nasr, 1968; and Moncrief, 1975.
Heightened contact may also have relation to the child's experience of nature. See Cobb, 1977.
CHAPTER 15
BASIC CONTACT, ENCOUNTER AND
AT-HOMENESS
Last week I was walking from my dorm to the library, lost in thought, making plans for my parents' visit the coming weekend and where we might go to dinner. Just for a few seconds, I was able to watch myself walking up the hill, avoiding the puddles that had formed because of the rain we had last week. Something in me was watching for water puddles and guiding me around them. Even though I wasn't consciously aware of each puddle, something in my feet were working together. I'd see a puddle ahead and my feet would instantly hop over it or go around. All of this was happening as I was immersed in my thoughts. I didn't do a thing; it happened automatically—a group member (3.6.1).
Obliviousness, watching, noticing and heightened contact require conscious attention. The world, either inner or outer, takes on some degree of presence in the experiencer's awareness.
There is another kind of awareness: a preconscious attention, which like movement, arises from the body. I call this mode of encounter basic contact, and define it as the preconscious perceptual facility of body-subject. Basic contact works with the body, helping its actions to be in phase with the world at hand. Whether our more conscious awareness is experiencing a moment of obliviousness, watching, noticing or heightened encounter, basic contact is extending some amount of perceptual awareness. On the awareness continuum, basic contact is best defined as a wavelike structure running below the more conscious modes of encounter, always extending outward some amount of prereflective attention (Figure 15.1).
Figure 15.1: The Place of Basic Contact on the Awareness Continuum
Examine the observation at the start of the chapter. The group member is deep in thought. He suddenly realizes that there is a level of perception helping to guide him around puddles. Another group member, thinking about the day ahead, finds himself passing a car on the expressway (3.6.2). 'Some part of me' or 'something' which automatically guides behaviors. It, like movement, is precognitive: 'I was lost in thought'; 'I was oblivious to driving.'
Basic contact and movement are not separate experiential processes. Rather, they are part and parcel of a perception-movement reciprocity: basic contact assists movement which in turn brings about a new perceptual field. This reciprocity extends to person and world. No division exists between body and environment encountered: the two meet instantaneously in a person-world dialectic that sustains movements in the particular moment as it prepares movements for the next. As Merleau-Ponty explains:
At each successive instant of a movement, the preceding instant is not lost sight of. It is, as it were, dovetailed into the present, and present perception generally speaking consists in drawing together, on the basis of one's present, and through it all those which will occur throughout the movement. Each instant of the movement embraces its whole span (1962, p.140).
The body, through its powers of movement and basic contact, integrates generalized patterns of habit with the uniqueness of the world at hand. We can understand Merleau-Ponty's claim (1962) that a philosophy of body-subject is already a philosophy of perception, since 'it is precisely through the body that we have access to the world: it is through this body that we have sensations whereby we experience the world' (Barral, 1965, p.119).
Limitations of both behaviorists and cognitive theories stem from the fact that perception is viewed as a mode of knowledge and thus treated in objectivist fashion as a 'stuff' to be viewed and studied (Zaner, 1971, p.131). These theories do not recognize that, like movement, perception can be understood only through process. It is preconscious and pre-objective, to be viewed only in fleeting glimpses as it unfolds automatically.
Perception, or basic contact as it is called here, is the mode of access through which the body meets the world and the generalized attitude of habit meets the particular environment at hand. Perception can not be spoken of experientially in terms of 'sense data', 'perceptual information', 'messages' and the like. It is a constant dialectic, an ever-present flow between person and world, allowing him to manage effectively simple gestures. movements and tasks.
Basic contact is the essential foundation for more conscious modes of encounter. Because basic contact automatically synthesizes our driving movements with the road ahead, we can turn out attention to the autumn foliage or notice skaters in the park as we pass. Or we can ignore the trip and think about the morning ahead or worry about a friend in the hospital. Basic contact, in harmony with the powers of habit, integrates the routine portions of our daily living. We can thus turn our attention to new and unfamiliar things. Alternately, we can choose to routinize our lives completely and grow inert and unfeeling in our encounter with the world.
Encounter and At-Homeness
Basic contact is an essential component of at-homeness. It provides a perceptual matter-of-factness, which comes to light only when the world is changed in some way. A familiar office feels strange because its blackboard, which was dirty, has been cleaned (3.14.2). A familiar street feels different because a tree along it has been cut (3.14.1). A change in the world as known brings itself to attention. That world seems different, strange, peculiar, and becomes a thing to be considered and figured out.
Rootedness houses basic contact. The perceptual field is automatically known in places of rootedness. The person can be oblivious to the world, yet his behaviors will be guided safely by the harmonization between basic contact and body, person and world. Even in the most familiar environments, however, movements and perceptual field can go out of phase; the person is surprised or caught in an accident (3.7.2). One group member, pondering the future and oblivious, collided with a street sign:
I didn't notice the 'no parking' sign on the edge of the sidewalk, and it caught my shoulder as I walked by. I jarred myself but was more surprised than hurt. It was an unexpected intrusion on my thoughts, a jolt from another world (3.7.1).
Beyond basic contact, at-homeness sustains a particular generalized attitude which permeates the person's daily existence and affects his modes of everyday encounter. On one hand, at-homeness fosters habituality—the tendency of the person to take his everyday world for granted and notice little that is new or different. Habituality is associated with the existential notion of inauthenticity—a stance of living in which the person does not deal with the world squarely, but experiences it as he has heard others say it is. 'Inauthenticity', says Relph (1976b, p.80), 'is an attitude which is closed to the world and man's possibilities...(it is) stereotyped, artificial, dishonest, planned by others, rather than being direct and reflecting a genuine belief system encompassing all aspects of existence.'
On the other hand, at-homeness may foster openness--a situation in which the person strives for fuller understanding of the world because he feels comfortable and at ease. Openness is related to the existential opposite of inauthenticity: authenticity—a mode of being in which the person accepts responsibility for his existence and seeks to be consistent and honest in his dealings with the world (Heidegger, 1962, p.68, Langan, 1959, pp.17, 21ff). Relph says:
an authentic person is...one who is sincere in all he does while being involved unselfconsciously in an immediate and communal relationship with the meanings of the world, or while selfconsciously facing up to the realities of his existence and making genuine decisions about how he can or cannot change his situation (ibid., p.64).
Openness is a vehicle for authenticity. The person in openness looks with concern on his everyday world, its people, things and places. Openness involves a concerned attitude outward; it is less associated with obliviousness (at least in its negative forms) and more related to watching, noticing, heightened encounter. The last two modes in particular relate to openness because they reveal unsuspected aspects of the world or foster intensified contact.
At-homeness fosters openness by conserving physical and psychic energies that can then be used for encounter and discovery. One group member, not feeling at home because of roommate antagonisms, moved to a friendlier environment and felt happier. In the new situation, she had more energy to get involved in new experiences; to open herself to new possibilities:
I definitely noticed that in the time I was living in this unpleasant situation there was no energy to spend on new activities. I was upset by the living situation and had no interest in doing anything other than the basic necessities. One of the reasons I had returned to college was to grow as a person - to try new things. But the apartment situation upset me. I had no wish to get involved in anything. I did just the minimal to keep me going. After I changed apartments and began living with people I liked, I felt more comfortable again. There was more energy. I could give myself to new things and take an active interest in life again. For example, I got involved in a pottery course and volunteered my help at a nursing home. I felt more free inside and could get involved with things outside myself (3.17.1).
At-homeness in other contexts fosters habituality. At-homeness guarantees familiarity and mater-of-factness. Life, if the person wishes, can proceed automatically and inauthentically, with a minimum of new encounters and contacts. Repetition and routine insulate response to the world. Daily living follows a comfortable monotony; the world is never questioned or looked at afresh. Habituality is associated with obliviousness and watching. Noticing is less probable, and heightened encounter— because of its unusualness and intensity—may be an impossibility.
Consider the following example of habituality. A group member, having lived several years in the same place, began to feel that her life was a mechanical process in which she took no active initiative. She felt a need to break away or live the same pattern forever:
I had everything so easy. I had a job, friends, a nice place to live. The problem was that everything was too nice - life seemed stale. The same schedule day after day, the same people - everything was usually the same. One day I suddenly saw my situation and I was scared. I saw I could easily live like this the rest of my life. I thought, 'You've got to get yourself out of this rut.' I decided to make a change by returning to school (.17.2).
Habituality and openness are both essential ingredients of a satisfying life. Habituality promotes order and continuity. We can not always explore the world for its fresh and unexpected aspects. Much of the time we must be practical and tend to the immediate needs at hand - getting to work, washing clothes, shovelling snow. We 'take hold' of the world quickly and effectively because of habituality. We conserve our energies and maintain our state of being. Time-space routines, body and place ballets are essential elements of habituality. Openness, in contrast, extends the person beyond himself. He contacts new aspects of the world and therefore grows as a person. Unknown aspects of the world become known. Realms of chaos and disorder are absorbed into an expanded sphere of at-homeness. The person extends his humanness.
Habituality is less useful when it stifles openness - when routine becomes so entrenched that the person forgets that life might be otherwise. Openness becomes potentially harmful when it extends the person beyond his reach - when it involves him in experiences and places which provoke danger or exertion beyond his capacities.
Authenticity, says Heidegger, is an aim of living, not an end in itself: 'authentic existence, in fact, can only be something of an ideal, a direction to aim at amidst the dark reality of the dissimulation of everyday life' (Langan, 1959, p.25). At-homeness, in its dual powers to foster both habituality and openness, is the backdrop out of which authenticity is possible. In this sense, an understanding of at-homeness and encounter clarifies the nature of an authentic mode of being and helps the person who wishes to move toward it.
CHAPTER 16
IMPLICATIONS FOR ENVIRONMENTAL THEORY AND EDUCATION
[A] 'knowledge problem'...has haunted western philosophy...insistently since Descartes. The relations between knower and known are problematic with us because we have grown so peculiarly stupid about the way experience really happens. Even (or perhaps especially) in the work of our leading modern philosophers, discussion of the sense life is incredibly insipid; experience has neither power nor complexity for them...our philosophy often trails off into much bookish discussion about something called 'sense data', conceived of abstractly as a uniform species of evidence that politely registers its arrival and then waits about to be accounted for in clever epistemological schemes—Theodore Roszak (1973, p.83).
Standard psychology and philosophy generally reduce encounter to perception, which is then discussed in causal, mechanistic terms (Keen, 1972, p.90). Behaviorists, on the one hand, interpret perception as a chain of responses to the external environment; the significant perceptual structure—the environment as stimulus exists out there in the world. Cognitive theorists, on the other hand, see perception as an information-chain that works in cybernetic fashion; the significant perceptual structure—a cognitive deciphering apparatus in the mind—lies inside the person.
Phenomenology looks away from these arbitrary interpretations and back towards perception as an experience. Phenomenologically, the essential perceptual structure can not exist inside the head nor out in the world. Perception is a dynamic inner-outer relationship. It is the variegated and fluctuating bond of attention between person and world, body and environment, sometimes stronger in its union, sometimes weaker.
Perception is therefore an impoverished term to describe the variegated ways in which people attend to their world. It (or basic contact) more appropriately describes the preconscious awareness of body-subject. This is the meaning Merleau-Ponty (1962) had in mind when he incorporated the word into the title of his major work, Phenomenology of Perception. Encounter is a better description for the ways we attentively meet the world. Encounter is a multifaceted ebb and flow of attention and involves all shades of obliviousness, watching, noticing and heightened contact. Beneath these more conscious attentive modes is the steady stream of basic contact, which in all but the most oblivious of moments keeps body and world, movements and surroundings, in smooth attunement. The sum is depicted in Figure 16.1.1
Figure 16.1: The Awareness Continuum as a Whole
Conventional Perception Research: The Case of Landscape Assessment
Work in landscape assessment demonstrates well how the variety of encounter modes has been ignored in much conventional perceptual research. This work attempts to determine the precise qualities of the physical environment which particular individuals and groups find attractive.2 In what kinds of houses and neighborhoods do people ideally like to live (e.g. Michelson, 1966)? How does the presence and arrangement of water, vegetation or man-made features affect a person's appraisal of a particular natural landscape (e.g. Brush and Shafer, 1975)? Do people with different personalities and different socio-economic backgrounds perceive the same landscape differently (e.g. Craik, 1975)?
Operationally, this research usually presents subjects with actual landscapes, or shows them simulated environments by means of photographs, slides or scale models. Subjects are asked to describe and evaluate these real or represented landscapes by means of adjective checklists, semantic differentials, or some similar measuring device. Statistical tests are applied to the resulting data to determine categories of preference and variations in preference among individuals and groups. This research has had useful consequences for environmental planning and policy decisions because it provides information on landscape preferences, which can be used in decisions on land use and environmental design (Zube, 1973).
Phenomenologically, research in landscape assessment is open to considerable criticism because it loses sight of the many ways in which landscape can be encountered by the experiencer. Encounter is contextual--in different moments we experience environment differently. When I arrive at Mt. Monadnock, tired after my lengthy car drive, I ignore the environment for which I have sacrificed an entire morning. I begin hiking, however, and shortly feel refreshed. The environment opens itself to me, and I begin to notice things to which I was oblivious a short time before.
Studies in landscape preference reduce the multifaceted modes of encounter to the artificial situation of person actively evaluating a real or simulated landscape. The subject plays the fabricated role of a person-grounded noticer; he brings attention to the landscape only because a researcher requests it. The subject actively peruses the environment--studying it and judging it, deciding what he likes and does not. His judgments are affected by the descriptive characteristics to which the questionnaire or semantic differential draws his attention. Many of these qualities he might never notice if he were there with the environment in the natural attitude.
Studies of landscape preference transform encounter into an exercise of evaluation. Information provided by the subject may have little correspondence to the significance of that landscape for the same subject when he is there on a particular day actually looking at it, recreating in it, passing through it, or being oblivious to it. These studies fail to grasp the fluidity of encounter and transcribe its variety into static, objectivistic terms. In general, this research suggests that a physically attractive environment will be an encountered environment. Brush and Shafer (ibid.) conclude, for example, that the greater the amount of vegetation and water, and the less the amount of non-vegetation, then the higher the chances that a particular landscape be preferred. Physical characteristics of the environment have some bearing on noticing and heightened contact, but they are not necessary or sufficient in themselves. As we have seen, other characteristics such as inner state and past experience may have as strong or stronger bearing on encounter.
In suggesting that scenery is a resource and so needs inventory and measurement, Zube argues that 'we must identify those aspects of scenery which mean something to the broadest range of people' (Zube, 1973, p.130). The awkwardness here is that meaning does not necessarily foster encounter: just because I rank a particular landscape 'beautiful', 'challenging', 'clean' and 'green', does not mean that on the particular day I hike through that landscape it will necessarily have more significance for me than another landscape which I ranked 'angry', 'bare', 'forbidding' and 'stony'.3 Ugliness and contrast may as often foster encounter as the beauty and attractiveness which most landscape assessment studies highlight wand work to institutionalize. No doubt it is important to protect landscapes that are 'beautiful', 'clean', 'grassy', 'green', 'hilly', 'natural', 'peaceful', 'pleasant', 'sunny' and 'tree-studded'.4 These kinds of environments are clearly important to many people and the landscape assessment studies serve a valuable function in that they provide empirical validation for that importance. "Quantitative data', writes Zube (1973, p.130), 'carry more weight with environmental decision-makers than do arguments based on "emotion" or personal feelings.'
On the other hand, the preservation of landscapes that possess the attributes people have labelled important does not mean that those people as experiencers will always encounter these environments in the way they have labeled them. In this sense, we must recognize the complementary side to landscape meaning: the medium of intercourse between landscape and experiencer that may lead to noticing, watching, heightened contact--or obliviousness.
Besides preserving attractive, stereotyped landscapes, then, we should also be concerned with programs which would sensitize people to all environments--be they superficially appealing or not. Such education would, first, introduce people to the variety of ways in which they encounter the physical environment, and, second, create techniques that would enhance their abilities to see and experience. Perceptive persons in all ages have frequently discovered beauty and depth in things which at first sight appear mundane, inconsequential or unpleasant (Roszak, 1973). Can we foster such sensibilities in ourselves and discover meaning and beauty in the seemingly commonplace? Such education would be particularly valuable in cities, where so-called attractive environments are less common.
Education and Environmental Encounter: Delicate Empiricism
Education in environmental encounter is concerned with those modes of awareness which extend the person's understanding of the world around him. Watching in new ways, noticing, heightened contact, openness and authenticity are therefore important. The person works to discover the world for himself; to meet it authentically: his aim is to see the world as it is in its own fashion--not as other people tell him it is. This mode of encounter is reflected in Relph's description of authentic experience of place. The place is met as a thing in itself before interpretation and coloring by preconceived thoughts and cultural filters:
An authentic attitude to place is...understood to be a direct and genuine experience of the entire complex of the identity of places--not mediated and distorted through a series of quite arbitrary social and intellectual fashions about how that experience should be, nor following stereotyped conventions (1976b, p.64).
Many approaches and techniques for fostering openness and authentic encounter exist. Painting, dance and other artistic means are perhaps one of the most valuable vehicles because they promote emotional contact with aspects of the world.5
One method appropriate for education emphasizing cognitive understanding is the scientific work of Goethe, whose use of interpersonal verification was discussed in Chapter 2. Goethe was profoundly interested in the natural world and conducted explorations of such phenomena as light, color, plants, rocks and weather. Discouraged by the theorizing, analyzing and measuring of conventional science of his day, he developed a mode of investigation that he called higher contemplation (Hohere Anschauung) or delicate empiricism (zarte Empirie). Goethe's method sought to explore things experientially--to foster a moment of intensified encounter through which the thing could be discovered and understood as it was in itself before any observer had defined, categorized or labeled it.
The prime aim of delicate empiricism, therefore, is to understand the thing through experiential contact. "Pure experiences', Goethe wrote, 'should lie at the root of all physical sciences.'6 These 'pure experiences', Goethe argued, are to be found in a moment of sudden insight in which the student sees the thing in a deeper and more vivid way. 'One instance is often worth a thousand', wrote Goethe, 'bearing all within itself.' The student's task is to encounter the thing intimately--to penetrate its aspects through the powers of human seeing and understanding.
Delicate empiricism uses watching and noticing focused on a particular thing. The ultimate aim is a moment of heightened contact in which person and thing emerge. Care is involved: the student is asked to extend a sense of reverence towards the thing. He should not look at it dispassionately or callously as a physiologist might study a rat. Nor can he manipulate and master the thing or make it into what he thinks it is. Rather, Goethe believed that 'natural objects should be sought and investigated as they are and not to suit observers, but respectfully as if they were divine beings.'
Delicate empiricism works to channel a spirit of openness and concern outwards towards a particular thing through training and heightening encounter. Delicate empiricism is similar to phenomenology in that the student must work to establish an atmosphere of receptivity to the thing. It is also closely related to Heidegger's spirit of dwelling in that it helps the person see a thing more deeply and clearly and thereby feel more at home with and responsible for the thing.
Foundational Ecology
One subfield of behavioral geography is concerned with human attitudes towards nature and the physical environment.7 Delicate empiricism and similar approaches have bearing on this subfield because they foster what Grange (1977) has called a foundational ecology--an attitude towards the physical environment grounded in reverence and concern. Foundational ecology, says Grange, is considerably different from the predominant ecological consciousness of today, which he calls divided ecology--an environmental attitude founded in fear and sense of economic threat.
Dividend ecology regards the interaction of humankind and nature solely from the perspective of investments and returns. The slogans of dividend ecology are familiar: 'Don't litter', 'keep your campsite clean', 'Pitch In', and so on and so forth. Dividend ecology has a simple message: if we continue to destroy our environment, we will perish. Its motive force is fear, being largely a negative movement that seeks to restrain our greed and diminish the aggression with which we attack nature. This way of understanding ecology can do little in the long run, for it only serves to reinforce the basic mode of consciousness that brought on our environmental disaster (ibid., p.136).
Instead, says Grange, we must foster a foundational ecology--a sense of environmental obligation arising out of kindliness and respect for the natural world. Making reference to Heidegger, Grange argues that foundational ecology is one aspect of dwelling; it is:
the effort to structure our modes of dwelling so that they reflect an essential and authentic way of being human. That way is an existence that opens itself to nature rather than aggressively reconstructing it according to personal ends. And the purpose of this way of dwelling is not to preserve 'wilderness' for our children or any of the hundred other reasons given by dividend ecology. Rather we seek to dwell so that we can move nearer to that which resides hidden at the center of ourselves (ibid., p.148).
Foundational ecology, says Grange (ibid.), does not mean that we renounce technology or return to a primitive condition. Rather, this attitude might change our way 'of building and constituting the world' and allow us to use technology in a way that is more humanly and environmentally constructive (ibid., p.147). We return therefore to Heidegger's belief that dwelling must precede building, which also means that at-homeness must replace homelessness. "To come home', concludes Grange (ibid., p.148), 'is to undertake a way of relating to nature that allows nature to show itself to us and that encourages us to abide and take up residence in that meaning.'
Foundational ecology is fostered practically by approaches like Goethe's delicate empiricism, which sensitize the student to one particular aspect of the natural or human worlds--clouds, plant, rocks, places or whatever. One significant example here is Theodore Schwenk's Sensitive Chaos (1961), an application of Goethe's approach to water. In the past, Schwenk believes, people treated water with reverence, which led to a right but unselfconscious ecological relationship with it. Over time there occurred a change in attitude and today man looks 'no longer at the being of water but merely at its physical value' (ibid., p.10). Schwenk works to demonstrate through words, drawings and photographs that water has an essential character, described by such features as the wave, vortex and vortex ring. He suggests that by looking at and studying water in this way people might again feel concern and care for their water resources.
Notes
1. Clearly, the modes of encounter discussed here are not the only modes. What, for example, are 'looking', 'looking at', 'observing' or 'studying'. These modes as well as others are also aspects of human awareness and future phenomenologies of encounter could usefully seek distinctions and clarification.
2. For one overview of this work, see Zube et al (eds.), 1975.
3. These words are taken from the landscape adjective checklist used by Craik (1975, pp.138-9).
4. Craik found that of the 240 adjectives comprising his list, these words were most frequently checked by his subjects.
5. One example is Kimon Nicholaides' The Natural Way to Draw: A Working Plan for Art Study (1949), which provides a series of drawing exercises that improve the student's artistic abilities as they intensify contact with the thing drawn. These exercises, applied to environmental themes, could do much to kindle love of nature.
6. The source of this and other quotations from Goethe can be found in Seamon (1978a).
7. For an overview of this subfield, see Ittelson et al (1974, pp.17-59).