The diamonds at your feet

 

Subject: The diamonds at your feet

How do we equate a walk down the beach in Rio and a stroll through the fields close to my home in Bishop's Stortford. One has all the passion and the glitz, the other a more mundane reflective experience.
Life has a yearning for the exceptional, be it a luxurious car, a plush hotel, to be where the rich and famous live and it also has this inner sense of connectivity with things around you because they more reflect the person you are, or would like to be.
It's a comparison between the large panoramic canvas where the size and scale loses innate perspective in its grandeur and magnificence  when compared to a softer, more self centred scale, where perhaps an  inner voice can be heard.
That's not to say that the panoramic experience, especially if it is archived by dint of your own exertion, perhaps placing yourself on top of a mountain, or out at sea in a small boat is not personal but the scope of the experience, the 'sense of achievement' is pre-eminent rather than just learning about yourself when immersed in the simple things.  
It's these inner conversations you have with yourself, a sort of manifest of your personal life and character which identifies the individual you. It's that acknowledgement of your place in the 'local day to day scheme of things', an attempt to fit in and make sense of it all. Always on the look out, all the time trying to spot an opportunity is to forget what's at our feet and latent within your head.
From a hermit to world traveller, from standing room on the roof of a train out of Rawalpindi to a helicopter touch down on the private pad of a seven star hotel, each is an experience and it's short sighted for a person to ridicule one or the other. Both are characteristics of the human psych and it's desire. But since it's likely neither is available and the experience we come into contact with each day has more relevance, it would I submit be best to unearth the diamonds around you and see what, in our youth you were too busy, too involved in your own narcissism to see what was in front of our nose.