The part of town I live in is great for walking, which also happens to be my favorite form of exercise. Like many people, I tend to follow the same route for most of those walks. So, I see the same streets, houses, gardens, even dogs, over and over. A few months ago, I had an errand that meant I could kill two birds with one stone (get some exercise and run the errand); I would walk the same route but I would have to walk it in reverse. I would see all those houses and yards, but from a different angle. Initially, it all looked pretty much as usual, but within a few blocks, I began to notice previously unseen aspects: a beautiful door leading to a hidden garden; a canopy on one house that looked like sails that might carry it off on some Jules Verne voyage; a house whose backside belied the well-kept front. A neighborhood I thought I knew intimately turned out to have hidden beauty, ugliness, and whimsy.

Delicate Arch at Sunset

I started wondering how often I’d missed these same bits of my own life, of my friends, family, myself. It’s hard to see the other parts unless I walk the path a little differently. And can I remind myself when it all looks the same from this angle, to move just a little to the left? It’s difficult to imagine when you’re in the clutches of depression, anxiety, grief, rage, or any intense emotional state, that there is anything else. When will that feeling lift just enough to allow you to glimpse another part of your life? And, if it does, will you miss it? You might. We all do. I have found, however, that we get more than one chance. Sometimes you have to walk the same street for many years before you see the other way.