If my face is to be weather beaten as well, it’s little enough lost for a year among the lakes and vales where simply to look out my window at the high pass makes me indifferent to mirrors and to what my soul may wear over its new complexion. ~Fleur Adcock from Weathering

While walking along the coast of Spain between A Guarda and Baiona, one of the lines from a poem I’d been reading kept circling around in my head. As I let the line unfold silently within my mind, my walking companion moved easily beside me, ruminating about her “lessons” from the Camino I presumed. On this particular day we stopped for lunch at a quaint outdoor café overlooking the bay at Oia, which offered a welcomed rest for my tired body and an opportunity to free my feet from the confines of my shoes. As we lingered over our meal of mixed greens and tuna, I read a section of the poem I’d been pondering. With a bewildered look, Dana diplomatically asked, “So what exactly does that mean to you?” I suppose poetry is a bit like math – you either get it or you don’t, but Dana was willing to listen and endure several poetry readings throughout the pilgrimage.

The line I’d been mulling over was from the poem, Weathering; “…simply to look out my window at the high pass makes me indifferent to mirrors…” It reminded me of a conversation with my veterinarian shortly before leaving for Spain. I had scheduled an appointment with her to evaluate a lameness issue with my horse and in the course of our discussion we began talking about the healing benefits of pets.   She observed that when looking into the eyes of an animal it’s difficult to focus on your problems – your attention naturally shifts from an inward gaze towards something outside yourself. Her catchy term was, “eyes out,” and it captured the essence of the poem.

It prompted me to consider shifting my gaze outward as well, taking in the wonder surrounding me instead of constantly looking inward with a critical eye. Somehow my sagging gluts, the wrinkles around my eyes and neck, my graying hair, and the thickening of my waist seem inconsequential when looking out at the blooming heather along the coastline or tasting the moist sweetness of grapes picked from a hanging vine. Yes, the aging process is happening and I’m not so happy about it but meanwhile there is magic all around me.   If I let my attention move outward for a moment I become right sized, my world expands and frankly becomes more interesting. And maybe, if I practice this enough, I will become less concerned with mirrors too.

Questions: How does widening your lens allow a broader view of life? Does it change your attitude towards yourself?  What are the views from your home?