making a molehill out of a mountain

We have jumped from winter into summer (no sign of spring; we leapt right over that season). I went for a walk the other day just to soak in the sun and the scenery.

And I realized how much I look straight down when I walk. I pretty much stare at my feet and the ground immediately beneath me. Every now and then I lift my head, looking up. To double-check my direction, get a bigger picture idea of where I'm going, and see (ever so briefly) what's around me.

On one such head lifts, I was struck with the thought that I walk similarly through my life.

I so easily get stuck staring straight down. Seeing only what I'm dealing with right now. Focusing solely on that which I'm facing in this moment. Each rock incredibly big, each hole unbelievably deep, each incline practically impassable.

But when I take a deep breath, lift my eyes, and look around, things change. Well, actually, it's not the things that change, but my perspective. When I get a glimpse of the big picture of what's happening in me, around me, and through me, the rocky road underneath my feet somehow seems less rocky.

In the context of everything else, the rocks shrink. The holes fill. The inclines... what inclines?

It's kind of the opposite of the small print you read on your side view mirrors: "Objects in mirror are closer than they appear." My larger-than-life challenges are quickly put into perspective when I shift my gaze so that I'm not staring them in the face.

The fine print I need to remember is: "Things you're facing are smaller than they appear."