How the art of slow looking can improve your attention span and change your life

Subscribe to enjoy similar stories.My phone and I, usually joined at the hip, were recently separated on a forest safari where mobile phones were not permitted. Sans a camera, I had to experience Satpura Tiger Reserve without capturing it through a lens. Freed from digital distractions, I gradually found my attention sharpening.

I noticed flutters, rustling, chirps, whistles, pink flecks on glowing ghost trees, even the delicate pattern on a teak tree’s infected leaves, their paper-thin surfaces translucent, riddled with holes through which sunlight streamed. I saw animals and birds, but also finer details: the gaur’s white-socked legs and orange, blue and white horns; the arresting green eyes of a jungle cat peering through a fence, and thick cotton candy like funnel spider webs fringing the path.The effect lingered beyond the jungle. Back at the wilderness lodge, with erratic Wi-Fi to keep me from picking up my phone, I wandered through grounds dotted with trees, tall burnished grass, organic gardens, and the occasional group of snuffling wild boar.

A quivering line of weaver ants caught my attention as they climbed a branch to their nest—braided leaves stitched together with larval silk. Gazing at a murky pond, I initially noticed bubbles. Minutes later I realised they were a frog’s eyes peering above the water.

My continued gaze revealed more pairs of beady eyes. Without my phone, I stayed longer, and saw more.My experience was of “slow looking,” a practice of sustained observation often associated with art. Museums worldwide encourage visitors to spend extended time with a single artwork, going beyond first impressions and allowing for deeper attention to detail and nuanced understanding.