The Power of the Sit Spot
I have sit spots scattered around the land where I live.
There is the picnic bench on the boardwalk where I watch the river flow by while waiting for a beaver sighting.
There is the giant washed up log at Dunbar Beach, smoothed by years of crashing water, weathered gray the way only nature can, where I snuggle up against the wind and meditate on rolling waves.
And of course there is a rocking chair in my backyard, under the arbor, where I begin almost every morning, admiring the birds flitting from feeder to tree and back again, where I can call hello to passing neighbors, walking their dogs in the early light.
But my favorite sit spot is hands-down the tiny bridge that crosses the wetland spillover along Beverly Road. From this vantage point, I watch seasons change, plants shift, and birds migrate. I take note of the difference in the wash of sunlight across the water from spring to summer to fall to winter. I sit quietly while sandhill cranes dance through the shallows in March and April, and I hunch nervously when the Canada geese pass by with their goslings in May. By June the sounds of this sit spot have shifted from the conk-la-ree of aggressive red-winged blackbirds to the soft twittering of tree swallows. And on it goes in my Beverly Road sit spot, day after day, something new, something old, something changing, something staying (it seems to me) exactly the same.
A sit spot is exactly what it sounds like: a spot to sit, to observe, to be.
Ideally a sit-spot is outdoors, but it could be indoors with a view of the world outside. For example, I have a sit spot in my house - the red chair with views east and west - where I sit every morning in winter, when it is too cold to be sitting still outside for long.
Ideally, a sit spot is nearby, somewhere you can walk or bike to in a few minutes. This closeness means daily or weekly visits which allow you to observe how things change moment to moment, season by season in your sit spot. That said, a sit spot might be a place you have to travel some distance to. My Beverly Road sit spot used to be a short walk away, but now - after moving - requires a short drive and a quick hike - and it’s all the more delightful when I finally get to rest in that special place.
Most importantly, a sit spot is somewhere safe and inspiring. Because this is a place you will return to again and again, you want to choose a sit spot that is comforting while piquing your curiosity. Maybe your sit spot is a graffitied bench in your neighborhood park where you can observe all that humans and nature have to offer. Maybe your sit spot is a moss-covered patch of forest floor at the base of a two-hundred year old maple where the ants never stop moving and the tree provides a reliable back-rest.
Where you make your sit spot isn’t exactly what matters.
What does matter is that you return to this spot again and again.
What does matter is that you make a routine of visiting your sit spot and slowing down.
What does matter is that you take the time to notice how the world around you looks, smells, sounds, feels, and yes - even tastes - in this unique place. Right now, the road to my sit spot is lined with wild leeks, a delicious spring treat, and summer will offer more berries than I could ever possibly eat.
And so I let it offer me these gifts, these delights, these moments of rest and wonder and nourishment.
And in return I offer attention, devotion, and care, to this spot, to my community, and the world beyond.
So what are you waiting for? Go find your spot, sit, and stay awhile.
By: Dr. Emily Bretl, Ecological Education Program Specialist, Marram Collaborative
