When was the last time you looked up?
Sunday Reverie 02: on reorienting to the horizon
Welcome to the second edition of Sunday Reverie: a bi-monthly series where I welcome you to pause, contemplate the question of the week, and return to yourself.
Pour yourself a cup of coffee or tea 🫖
Cue up this week’s soundtrack, Trust Your Path 🎧
Grab your journal and spend 15 minutes reflecting on what this week’s question evokes within you ✍️
Last Friday, I woke up feeling unsettled about a big life transition on the horizon. After sitting for my daily meditation in hopes of quieting the ever growing list of to dos and worries that clouded my mind (no luck), I set out for my morning walk. Despite it being a spectacularly beautiful morning, I couldn’t shake the rumination.
Halfway through the walk, I had a choice to take the slightly longer route or hurry back home to get on with my day. Because I’d spent most of the walk lost in thought, I set an intention at the fork to return to my body if just for a few moments — to feel my feet on the ground, the warmth of the sun on my face, and the light breeze on my skin. I made the split-second decision to extend my walk.
As I wandered down the hill, I looked up briefly and something in the tree caught my eye — a bird perched on a branch statue-like. I squinted at its silhouette against the bright blue sky, trying to decipher what type of bird it might be as it stared straight ahead, still and motionless. Unlike the other birds that typically frequent this park in flocks, this one sat in solitude.
Captivated by his presence, I stopped to look around to see if anyone else passing by had noticed, but everyone else’s attention seemed to be elsewhere. Heads down, AirPods in, lost in conversation or in their own worlds.
Curious of the breed, I snapped a quick photo to investigate.
Within a few moments, photos of similar birds populated my screen: a Great Blue Heron, typically found near water. This cypress seemed like a peculiar place for him to rest considering the nearest lake, his natural habitat, was about two miles west.
The long, white plumes hanging from his chest, beard-like, lent him the air of an elderly sage who had traveled from afar to deliver me a message.
If like me, you believe that the universe gifts us wisdom in the form of animals and synchronicities then you too might have been interested in what blue herons represent.
Herons are known for their patience and precision, often hunting by standing perfectly still, trusting the right time to strike will reveal itself. With quiet self-reliance, they live at the edge of water and land, embodying a presence between two states.
Standing beneath the tree, I found myself wondering how often life offers its lessons in plain sight while we search for it everywhere but in the present moment.
It begged the question:
when was the last time I had looked up?
When we’re traversing unfamiliar territory, it’s natural to orient ourselves to the unknown by focusing on what's right in front of us. Looking down keeps us in motion and helps us navigate the obstacles ahead. Yet when our attention is cast down for too long, the wider world begins to fall out of view and we lose sight of what we were moving toward in the first place.
Most of the time, we have some intuitive sense of whether the path we’re walking down is the one for us. We set milestones to achieve along the way, marking our progress on the journey.
The challenge arises when we lose ourselves in the terrain beneath our feet and forget to turn our gaze toward the horizon. Maintaining perspective is the practice of holding the duality of staying present with our next step and grounding ourselves in what higher purpose this season of our life is in service of.
Connecting and reconnecting with what this chapter of life is all about allows us to zoom out from the distractions strewn about on the path in front of us when perhaps wisdom is waiting for us along the longer, meandering trail that we don’t dare waste our time wandering toward. When we find ourselves feeling rudderless and without a clear sense of direction, it’s often a sign that it’s time to return to our higher vision.
Reorienting toward the horizon is a daily practice. Setting intentions while remaining open to how the path unfolds before us, trusting that the next right step will reveal itself.
As I turned to walk home that morning, the great blue heron remained perched motionless above the path, a patient teacher waiting for whoever might remember to look up next.
Here’s an invitation to look up. You never know what extraordinary sign you’re searching for might be waiting for you in plain sight.
Loved it, thank you for sharing.