(Image Credit: Zion, 
I am very new to Steemit and haven't created much content myself yet. To be honest, I'm still trying to find my footing here (there is so much to learn) and I'm working through some of my own inner blocks that are cramping my creative process and really stalling my motivation. But, I absolutely love everyone I've 'met' so far and feel so blessed to have been welcomed into the eco communities here. It blows my mind that such a subculture exists and that people are coming together, forming a global tribe, and truly building the world we wish to see... and everyone is contributing in their own unique ways (whether it's homesteading, teaching, creating art, and so on). I'm not actually a member of 
What Does Being Aware Mean To You?
This question is so nuanced, and there are so many layers of awareness (all of which I find valid). Even the question itself, though, points to the deepest essence of what being aware truly means to me… it is a state of being. It’s not about creating awareness or doing something that will make me aware, but simply surrendering to the awareness and presence that is always already here. It’s not thinking or getting stuck in commentary about what’s happening. It’s not simply being aware of my perceptions, ideas, insights, emotions, sensations and so on… it’s about moving fully into what this moment has to offer.
This frees me from concocting stories about what’s in front of me and dives right into the direct experience. This is where life becomes honest, raw, and real. Being aware in this way is like a stepping back (to a higher vantage point), but also sinking in (to truly inhabit my body)… it is vast enough to hold what’s going on around me, and to also remain curious about what might be arising within me (triggers, reactions, thoughts, attachments, etc.). Awareness moves between the inner and outer landscapes seamlessly, and sees them both as one. Being aware can actually look very different for me depending on the circumstances. But regardless of how being aware manifests, one thing is always clear… I am not doing anything. Just as the question implies, being aware is about being with everything, whatever that may be.
With that said, this is not always easy for me. As a survivor of childhood sexual assault, poverty, domestic violence, and two parents with mental health disorders, I still (well into my adulthood) experience flare-ups of PTSD, an overstimulated sympathetic nervous system (fight, flight or freeze), and bouts of hypervigilance. While there is SO much wisdom in this primal, instinctual, pre-wired biological impulse to survive, it is not often conducive to healthy functioning in the world or my ability to be a contributing member of my community. I mention this because while I've stated that being aware is not something we do, it IS something I believe we must practice. Like a muscle, our capacity to rest in awareness must be be worked. For me, this often (but is not limited to) cultivating my ability to drop down into my heart, shift into my parasympathetic nervous system (rest and digest), and activate the innate healing and self-corrective mechanisms of my body. From my experience, our ability to truly be aware is directly related to how often we nurture this spaciousness within ourselves.
Even as I sat with this question I saw the dance between intense concentration and a surrendering into depth of awareness playing out before me. For hours I bounced back and forth, from contemplation to relaxation, giving myself over to the moment time and time again. And from this dance was a born a story, a word picture that gives voice to my process, that brings ‘being aware’ out of the clouds and into daily living so that I am not so much explaining something, but am inviting others to step into my experience and my journey of being aware.
So Here Goes... My Poetic Answer to the Question
–Bill Plotkin
For a while, unsure of how long exactly, the landscape around me disappears. I am lost in thought and do not even know that I am lost. Suddenly, in a gap between frantic clicks of the keyboard where my fingers thud robotically—falling like clunky cogs in a rusted engine—I am captivated by silence. A still, quiet moment unwraps each passing second and invites me to move more deeply into this experience, revealing a space where I can hear the tender hum of my in and out breaths, where I feel wisps of velvety air touch my lips just before they slide over my tongue and down into my stomach. I notice the rhythmic melody of the fan hanging from the ceiling above, a low mechanic rumble of jets in the distant sky, and birds whispering through an open window. I feel the gentle beat of my heart and see, just below the rim of my glasses, the steady rise and fall of my chest. I realize that the moment is not necessarily quiet, but I am.
I am listening deeply to the twinge in my neck and wrists from hovering over my computer screen. This tension rising to the forefront of my experience reminds me that I have been lost to the beauty of simply being right here. As I lean into the dull ache of my spine and shoulders, I am also bidden to see why I ever set out toward remembering this beauty, Here, in the first place. A handful of pens and snowy sheets filled with ink doodles lie to my left. Circles within circles, spirals revolving back into themselves, can be seen dancing across the top image. Stacks of notepads, articles, and books cascade in all directions to my right. One particular bundle towers over the others like a beautiful rose bush, its roots traveling deep into the surface of my desk, its linguistic buds sprouting outward in various shades and textures.
The seat beneath me begins to take form again as I step back from my thoughts and move into the soft, and rough, curvatures of my body. I continue sinking into my bones, widening, expanding out into the room. Acknowledging the walls that surround me, I imagine the magnificent trees they might have once been. I imagine piles of seeds, soil, rain, and sunlight—processes and structures that together over millions of years have produced the forests and jungles of the world. I imagine the minerals and metals that were excavated from mountains to fashion each nail that holds together this wooden frame I call my home. I imagine a rough, gritty feeling on the bottom of my bare feet as I look at my glass of water and think of each small, white grain of sand that created it. Like the window through which I now see my neighbor’s dog chasing a vibrant yellow ball and the lush emerald green of my front lawn. I imagine touching the whole sun in a single orb that peeks through the swaying fronds of a willow on windy days like this, and give thanks for the nourishing rays that grow all of the life in my yard, in every yard on my street, my city, the state, this nation, and the entire globe. We are all in this together. I imagine earth in my heart and my heart in earth. I feel a few warm tears trickle down my cheeks, they sting when gusts of cool air touch them. I savor a salty farewell as they make their way to the edges of my mouth and quickly dissolve.
Then, I bow my head in gratitude.
Conclusion
I think that in the deepest sense, when we are really connected to ourselves, expanding our capacity to be more aware each day, we come to realize how every step we take effects the whole and how our actions can be used to serve in both small and big ways. This requires a balance of inner work and actual deeds in the world. It will look different for all of us. And... this is a HUGE and... being aware is not an excuse to berate ourselves when we have moments of weakness, unconsciousness or behave re-actively. Being aware is an invitation to welcome all of ourselves to the table, because as we come to integrate the various facets of who we are, we are better able to recognize the wholeness/oneness in all things. This, in my humble opinion, is how we heal the world.