What if your sight were a stone?
Just before you, where you can see clearly and definitely, ready to pick it up and cast it again when you reach that spot? Straight ahead, seeking to strike your target? Or do you cast it as far as you can, where you aren't sure where it will go, but you'll always know it will be a new place from where you first looked around, first threw your stone...
For a long, long time, I'd sought to throw a stone as far as I could, but only managed to chuck it on the ground directly ahead of me. A couple steps ahead, pick it up again, throw again, a few more steps, then...
I hate it. You see nothing but your feet and the ground around you.*
I regularly stop wherever I am (when I'm not on my way to work, hoping I'm not late) and look straight ahead to see how far I can see. Then I look up, just a little, to whatever horizon presents itself. I could just lean back and peer at the sky, but at the horizon, you see the relative. You see, in tandem, the huge sky, stretching on seemingly infinitely, but you see it in relation to the near ground, the treeline, the top of a building. You can recognize the traffic crossing the intersection ahead, but also the miles, miles, and miles of clouds, the knowledge that there underneath those clouds are other places, likely ones you haven't been to, boring or exciting, new or repetative, but definitely one more place you could go to. You can sense indirectly just how massive and far-reaching the land you occupy is, and how you're one person, a tiny dot, on this massive place.
You can, with the right sense of space and focus, sense all around you at once, see everything that moves near and far in your sight, hear the wind, the trees, the cars, the people, the rattling air conditioners, the birds... You can tell that you're not a person here in the world, but instead you are a person who is part of the world. Not in it, but of it. And even at a mundane, urbanized street corner, or in a grassy it's a beautiful, wholesome feeling. Pardon the expansive simile, but it's like a glass of water for your spirit, refreshing and pure and cool.
Next week, I will take my place as a manager. To me, the work means little. I can handle it, and in fact, I feel more like I should be handling it, instead just of the idle hands-work alone. That is no problem. But now, someone's giving me a lever to pull and a button to push, and I get to decide when and how many times, and I can find the best ways to do that. But that is beside my point. I will be getting a bit more income, and a bit more income just might mean a car.
A car means going places. When I want to, where I want to. I can go around the corner to the store. Woo. Or, I could fill up the tank and go exploring somewhere I haven't been, casting stones far and wide to see where my sight lands. I can aim for distant targets, make an accurate shot, and visit places I'd longed to see again. People I'd longed to see again. Do things I'd been wanting to do since forever...
Always, I'd need time, I'll have to wait. Get my real license. Get the actual car. Get my money safe enough to make such trips and drives. Many I don't have the patience for that. I've been waiting years for this kind of freedom. Yeeaaarrrssss. But I'll just have to have a little more patience. Weeks. Months? Not much choice. Enh.
Eventually, though, eventually.
* Although, granted, I do spend a lot of time with my eyes keenly focused on the ground before me.
I need a notepad. I have too much I think about during the day to remember to write down at the end, when I'm comfortably at home and ready to write about it all. Anyway...