I often look down while out on a walk, eyes trained unseeingly on the ground in front of me, deep in thought, or making sure I don’t stumble. It’s particularly true in these restricted times. I often walk exactly because I’m feeling down, unable to venture further afield, restricted to walking the same streets in my neighborhood over and over. Down mood, down eyes.
Look up, I remind myself, take in the sky, the tree canopy, the mountains beyond, the colors around me, so profuse right now. Then the world is suddenly alive instead of asphalt, dirt, gravel, or my same boring shoes. It’s a good mood elevator, so why not keep my nose tipped skyward and be curious about the world, watch the birds at work and play, singing brilliantly? Looking through my photos, they are rife with blossom and cloud, branch and hillside, and it’s so easy to immerse myself in that lovely serenity.
But what about down – doesn’t it have a place, some value? Am I giving it short shrift, in favor of the frilly foofaraw, the candy striped dessert? The path I walk on is also worthy of admiration. It’s the solid bit, the thing that holds me up, strong and steady, the mother I need to cherish and care for!
So I spent an afternoon purposefully looking down, taking in the things I take for granted in my neighborhood as I reel repeatedly, round and round.
I noticed the art on the ground, lines and patterns, color and texture, life at a different level. It’s something new anyway, a novelty in my shrinking external world.
Meanwhile, my internal world continues to spin, shift, sit.
And you? What are you noticing?