Today I paddle out onto my little lake at sunrise. It is as good a place for awareness as any. The loons are much tamer than they were when I was a boy: numb to the traffic noise from Route 302 that is already beginning to build, numb to me as I approach. Withdrawing to rocky coves, they will retain their numbness even as the noisy jet-skis invade, long after I go to work. Yet these indifferent-appearing loons are acutely aware of fish down deep in the cooler water, diving for them periodically. When I add my noise to the inbound traffic, I will be trying in the midst of my numbness to stay aware of the possibilities in my patient's gentle half-smile and his soul under the numbed-out surface.