This is a line from a Paul Simon song, 'You Can Call Me Al' that I heard this morning on the way to work. It was playing as I was driving on Tolt Hill Road, where the field grasses come right up to the white line on the shoulder of the pavement and stand about 3 feet or so tall. The road is lined on both sides and if you have your window down you can hear a soft swwwishhhh as your car passes by. It felt to me like what southern France must feel like.
"I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea;
Yet I know how the heather looks, and what a wave must be."
I play a little game with myself sometimes that I call 'new eyes,' where I try to look at the scene before me as if I were a tourist, not a resident. Try it sometime, it's fun. So this morning with the grasses and the mountains shining beyond the edges of the valley and the curve of the Tolt bridge and the faintest swirl of white mist hovering over the river and the light from the newly risen sun spilling over all of it, I saw angels in the architecture with my new eyes.
I think if I focus really hard, maybe I can see my life with new eyes, too. As in, how would I see it if I were regarding it from the outside instead of from my own personal vantage point? Something to think about, for sure. If you could view your life like a tourist, what would you see?
Choke me in the shallow water, before I get too deep. (EB, wife of PS, incidentally!)