How to See

The sun was beginning to set on Damaraland’s rugged landscape in Namibia, casting long, golden shadows. The wind was blowing softly, and everything around us seemed alive, particularly in his presence, brimming with stories that only my game ranger friend could hear. As we moved through the bush, I watched him in amazement, his senses finely tuned to the subtleties of the environment—like he was connected to every blade of grass, every bird, every insect.

I wondered: How does he see so much? How could he be so aware of the rocks’ stories, the plants and animals in their silent, intricate dance with the landscape? It was as if he was connected to the land on a different level, a frequency I couldn’t yet tune into.

I asked him how can you read the world like this. He shared a story.

The Square Meter of Sand

“When I was younger, my guide/teacher took me out into the bush one day. We walked for hours, silently taking in the sights and sounds of the wilderness. But then he stopped. He bent down and drew a square meter in the sand with his fingers.

‘Look here,’ he said, pointing to the sandy square. ‘I want you to spend time observing and looking at this one square meter. And tonight, you’ll tell me for a full hour what you saw.’”

I thought that seemed daunting. “For a full hour?”

He said. "Yes, an hour”. It sounded impossible at first. How could I possibly fill an hour talking about a tiny patch of sand in the middle of the bush? So I sat, and I began to watch."

The Slow Unfolding

At first, the square of sand seemed ordinary—dull even. Just grains of sand, small stones, maybe a few ants marching back and forth. But as the minutes passed, something shifted. “The more I stayed with it, the more it opened up,” my friend told me. “I started to notice the speed of the ants. Their tiny bodies, carrying weights far greater than themselves. How they moved in unison, like a well-organized army. I saw insects come and go, some staying for a few moments, others for longer.”

The teacher’s lesson wasn’t about the obvious. It was about what emerges when you stop looking for something grand and instead, start paying attention to the small.

"I noticed the texture of the sand," he said. "How it was shaped by the wind, tiny ridges and valleys that spoke of time, movement, and history. I listened to the sound of the wind, how it interacted with the landscape. The birds became more distinct too. I could hear which were near, which were far. Then I began to feel the heat from the sun differently—how it warmed certain parts of the sand more than others."

The World Within the Small

What my ranger friend learned in that square meter of sand changed how he saw the world forever. “It taught me to stop rushing through life, looking for the big, obvious things, and instead to dwell in the details. It’s all there, the stories, the patterns, the connections. You just need to give it the time to reveal itself.”

This ability to see is what separates those who merely pass through a landscape from those who become a part of it. The square meter in the sand became a teacher in patience, awareness, and connection. Through observing the details—the insects, the leaves, the sounds—he began to see deeper truths. Life in the wild wasn’t just about survival; it was about harmony, adaptation, purpose.

How to Truly See

That lesson, to observe deeply, is what allows him to move through the wilderness like he’s part of it. And now I realize, it’s something we all can learn.

We are often so distracted by the need for speed—scanning the horizon for the next big thing—that we forget to notice the richness in the now. My friend taught me that to truly see, we need to slow down, focus on the immediate, and let the world around us open up in its own time.

The bush, with all its seeming simplicity, is a universe unto itself. The ants, the sand, the birds—they are each actors in a larger play. Every small detail is a piece of a greater story, and by pausing, by really paying attention, we can start to understand the intricate web that connects everything.

In a world so focused on the rush, there is profound wisdom in learning to look at a square meter of sand and see the universe within it.

Final Thoughts

Next time you’re out in nature—or even in your everyday surroundings—pause. Look closely. Observe the small, the minute details. Let your senses sharpen. Who knows what you’ll discover, not just about the world around you, but about your own way of seeing.

It turns out, the secret to seeing more is in learning to look closer. It’s about shifting your perspective to dwell in the details, the overlooked, the seemingly insignificant—and letting the world, in all its vastness, unfold before your eyes.