As far as your mind can see

 
 

I’ve been craving bigger vistas. Don’t get me wrong, I am in love with my backyard and the Godsend that half acre of land has been since the pandemic began. The shallow view into the woods mirrored the same short distance my mind could see into the future.

Lately though, I have wanted vast panoramas to lose myself in. My eyes have yearned to travel far and wide across what could be possible; to be reminded that it’s a very big world with endless options; to see something new reflected back to me.

When I stepped onto the balcony last night to take in the Miami skyline, I got my wish and then the strangest thing happened. The extraordinary 180 degree view of the city and the bay peppered in twinkling lights was intoxicating. The cranes by the shipyard looked like they were performing some kind of choreography, stretching into the night sky.

I confess a fear of heights so perhaps that set it off but my body had a visceral reaction like nothing I have ever experienced before. It was almost too much, overwhelming sort of, like anxiety mixed with a twinge of agoraphobia (fear of wide open spaces). The glass balcony railing suddenly didn’t feel sufficiently safe and I pressed my body against the building while my friend gestured out over the railing.

Maybe sometimes what’s in front of us can seem so massive that we don’t even know how to look at it or take it in, forget about processing what we are experiencing and then doing something about it.

Whether what is laid out in front of us is a beautiful vision we really want for ourselves or the thing we most never want to revisit, stretching into what we aren’t able to really be with is a great place to start.

I woke up in Miami to this epic view and realized again how quickly I forget what a big wide open world it is full of endless possibilities. Do you ever forget you have more freedom than you do to be, do or have what you want?

If you ever feel stuck, small, trapped, defeated or confused seek a real life, nature made, wider vista and soak it in. Bask in what begins to feel possible again. Look, listen and feel.

What do you see?

Robyn IvyComment