Something has shifted in the way I see when I’m on the trail.

For years, I hiked with a very specific lens. I was always looking for something I could wood-burn. An animal, a composition of plants that could translate onto wood. It was instinctive. Familiar. I knew what I was looking for, even if I couldn’t always explain it.

Most of my pieces still carry that feeling. They feel alive because they come directly from observation. From noticing how something exists in the real world and translating that into line, shadow, and texture.

But recently, that way of seeing has started to change.

I am a few months into the Immersion course, moving into the next phase of learning, and I can feel the shift unfolding in real time. I’m still walking the same kinds of trails. The same woods. The same uneven ground, scattered leaves, and early signs of seasonal change.

But I am not looking at them the same way.

It is no longer just, What can I burn?

It is: What could this become?

There is a difference between seeing a single object and seeing a system. A leaf is no longer just a leaf. It is a shape that could repeat. A line that could anchor a pattern. A detail that could connect to something else entirely.

I found myself at Lesesne State Forest, not with a plan, but with a different kind of attention. Just walking. Pausing. Taking photos. Not because I had a specific piece in mind, but because something about what I was seeing felt like it belonged together.

Not as one image, but as a collection.

A pattern.

There is something quieter about this process, but also more expansive. It requires a different kind of patience. Not just noticing what stands out, but noticing what connects. What repeats. What could be simplified, combined, layered.

It is less about capturing a moment and more about building a language.

I am realizing that when you go outside with the intention of seeing possibilities, the experience changes completely. The trail is no longer just a place to walk or even just a place to observe. It becomes a source. A starting point. A place where ideas begin to form before you even fully understand them.

And at the same time, there is a learning curve that feels both exciting and overwhelming.

This way of seeing is new. It is not fully developed yet. There are moments where I can feel the potential of it, and moments where I feel like I am only scratching the surface. Like I can see what could be possible, but I do not yet have the skill to fully bring it to life.

That tension is uncomfortable.

There is a part of me that feels like I should already know how to do this. That I should be able to take what I see and immediately translate it into something cohesive. Something intentional. Something finished.

But that is not where I am.

I am in the part where I am learning how to see differently.

And maybe that is the work right now.

Not producing. Not perfecting. Not rushing to turn every idea into something tangible.

Just paying attention.

Just allowing the shift to happen.

Because the truth is, the trail has not changed.

I have.