Dear Sunday: the art of nota bene
presence through notes, attention as currency, and french fries
My high school debate coach said I was the best note-taker he’d ever taught. For me the act of note-taking was simple: I’ve known since I was quite young that I can memorize anything if I write it down. When I studied in school, I wrote every note by hand, verbatim, and I could rewrite it for a test or essay with ease (this practice lives in me still). I started to wonder how technology is impacting our ability to recall information we learn, and how that impact trickles into our relationship with the present moment.
Considering note-taking and handwriting versus using technology, I came to an interesting research study.
“Actually, paper is more advanced and useful compared to electronic documents because paper contains more one-of-a-kind information for stronger memory recall," said Professor Kuniyoshi L. Sakai, a neuroscientist at the University of Tokyo and corresponding author of the research recently published in Frontiers in Behavioral Neuroscience.
I write by hand, but I also use my computer’s word processor, my typewriter, my notes app on my phone. I’m an equal-opportunity note-taker. Not surprisingly, this research on hand-written notes became a stepping stone for me.
There’s a Latin phrase, nota bene, which means note well or take notice.
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Practicing the art of nota bene brings me closer to presence. Presence is a key element in cultivating any quality desired (creativity, intuition, intelligence, beauty, courage, etc.). If taking note is a portal to paying attention, then deepening our relationship to this art is worth our devotion and practice. Thomas Moore said, “The ordinary acts we practice every day at home are of more importance to the soul than their simplicity might suggest.” The most mundane experiences are the ones we repeat over and over again in a life, and offering our attention to these tasks, images, and objects grants us an abundant life rich with the very qualities we want to bestow. Because after all, attention is currency, those who pay the most attention are the richest among us (rich in presence equals rich in [insert quality here]).
An interesting contrast emerged in my thoughts as I continued contemplating this research study: memorizing something I’ve taken note of and letting it go as I live in the continual unfolding moment. An art of holding the opposites emerges, once again, and I come to the wisdom of both/and. But maybe note-taking has more to do with steeping in the present than memorizing something I’ve experienced. I’ve been writing a haiku a day this winter. It’s a simple practice that has changed my life and involves deep noticing. The practice itself is the goal. But what I’ve found is these images and turns of thought make their way into my poetry later. I think the art of nota bene is like this.
The practice of taking notice of everyday life, all day long is the art of being with my experience while simultaneously observing it, and this leads me to a richer relatedness in reflecting and sharing my life with others. Connection. Like this letter, like when you write me back and say “Yes, me too, yes, that.” If we don’t take note in the moment, we don’t have the same ability to relate and connect later. If taking note is steeping in the moment, then sharing our memorized moments later is a beautiful tea.
Life is so precious, take note! Have tea! Write me!
Nota Bene, I’ve just now decided, will become a monthly feature. Things I’m noticing. Noteworthy objects, ideas, images, experiences in my life, and to inspire your own nota bene practice. Nota Bene will also feature prompts for presence and poetry. Though different than the short Et Cetera feature, which is also a list.
A March Noteworthy List:
French fries hand-cut, home-made.
Learning about thermodynamic favorability and the natural state of things.
this song:
Painting the handle of my plunger from yellow to charcoal gray to match the bathroom, even if it’s in a linen closet. I am who I am.
Drinking more than enough water all day.
A few haiku from my March moments:
The orchard ladder leans on an apple tree. March birds are whistling. Green lush land grows more green in winter’s last week. Sprouts all over are green. Buds in March clasp tight to stems. A gale whistles through a door left ajar.
What’s noteworthy for you? Tell me about it or anything else (comment or just reply!), because I love you and us.
all warmest,
Lindsey