My five-foot-seven body was noticeably closer to the ground as I walked to my allergist’s office yesterday morning. Looking down I could have sworn I was merely two-feet tall. With my nose to the ground it occurred to me that some days it’s like I’m walking so tall that my head seems to be in the sky and so far away from the ground, but not yesterday.
Throughout life I have had both clear and disproportionate perceptions, looking down, of the space between my head and feet. It was how I knew I was growing and also how I felt. In Kindergarten, it was the physical growth that fascinated me like a baby realizing his/her hands. In my twenties the concept of looking down was to take a snapshot and file it away under experience; proof that I stood here. In times of hardship, the closeness to the ground was an indicator of the emotions weighing me down. When life was great my feet seemed so far from sight and I stood so tall that sometimes, I swear, I could see above the buildings in New York City.
Maybe it’s just a way for me, maybe you too, to see where we are. Perhaps it’s my, and maybe your, way to benchmark the journey. Polaroids of perception from the ground up. Tomorrow I hope I am ten-feet tall and soaring above buildings.