In the monster on the horizon I wrote:
This realisation - yearning for the road and not the ocean - helped me a lot. It allowed me to tackle dreams, to make myself vulnerable, to accept the journey is going to be bumpy and on an unclear path at times. It also did something else, it shifted my view and perception much more fundamentally, but I'll leave that as a future post.
This is that future post. Well, not "future" as in "yet to come". Future post from the perspective of that previous post. Ah, here we go, perspective!
Perspective matters
Pictures say more than a thousand words, so, here:
It's a pretty picture. A field of sunflowers - their bright yellow heads looking at you, nice! But also a bit boring.
You've probably seen it many times before and if you lived here, it'd blend into the background. Nothing interesting to see here, right?
This is from that same field, just a different perspective. Closer, more focused on a small piece. A single sunflower.
It reveals beautiful structure and texture on the flower and, oh, there is even more life in this picture than meets the eye in the first photo: A bumblebee and a bee sharing this moment, collecting pollen and nectar side by side. Not competing, not collaborating either, just being in the moment (yuck, that last bit was a bit too much. Too cheesy.).
The point I'm trying to make is: The ordinary, the thing you saw dozens or hundreds of times still carry beauty and are still special, despite how normal and ordinary they may feel for you.
Not just looking, seeing
I realised this for the first time when I was driving through Switzerland with a friend from abroad. I drove this road many times before and in the beginning I stopped sometimes to admire the view: The sprawling lake in front of the gorgeous mountains, capped with snow and ice. Stunning, really!
Yet, I stopped seeing it. I looked at this view, every couple of weeks I would drive by. But I wouldn't really notice, I didn't see it anymore.
Until that day - my friend asked me to stop somewhere, so she could take a photo. I saw her expression, excitement. I looked at the photo and, for the first time in years, I saw the vista.
We can all benefit a lot from learning to see again. Look at the people around you, look at the windows, look at the sky, at the plants and flowers around you. Take a proper look, as often as you can.
The Chase
In the past couple of years I noticed something I've done for a very long time. I don't exactly know when it happened, but I think it might be around the time I turned 16. Before that, I enjoyed time. I walked across the fields, into the forest. Looked at the insects and fish in the streams and ponds. I strolled a lot, I looked at the sky every day. Then I started listening to the adults (bad idea) and did what they said was important (worse idea) and came up with a strategy, with a plan and did the work for that. I focused on the plan (terrible idea) and thought that's the most important thing (worst idea).
What happend in the years to come was, eventually (and after a series of horrible missteps and failures) success. Whee, success! But wait... something else happened as well. Whenever I reached a goal, completed a step in the plan, I didn't pause. I didn't relish or celebrate that moment. I immediately thought of the next step, the next goal. Whatever I accomplished vanished immediately. It was now normal, something that naturally happened - next!
Enjoying the moment
While I was happy with where I was, how things went and my life in general, it felt off. Something wasn't right. It was all superficial, it lacked depth and, now that I look back, it lacked joy. Of course I enjoyed vacations, job success, personal milestones. But only now, years later, I feel gratitude and deep, meaningful happiness.
What I didn't notice in all this chasing - always aiming for the next step, working on the next goal - is that I needed to pause and let things catch up.
I want to emphasize this: Let life catch up.
Once I did this, paused, looked back and inside, I realised all the beauty and the joy that I had run past.
I mean: I married the love of my life, we celebrated with all the people who mattered so much for us. We live in a beautiful place. I published a book! I went to the place I only could dream of visiting. I learned to dive. So many things happened, each full of meaning, impact and joy.
Yet I didn't see it. It was behind me while I spend energy chasing the next thing. Don't do that. Of course, having a plan and working towards it is the right thing to do - I continue to do that, too. But don't rush.
Celebrate your wins. Heal from your failures. Pause and admire the view.