“If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” — Wayne Dyer

How I Realized I Was Too Close

I didn’t realize how deep in the grind I’d gotten until I caught my reflection in an office mirror and decided—almost absentmindedly—to look out the window.

Hospitals aren’t exactly known for inspiring views, but what became glaringly obvious was how little I could see. Just the tops of nearby buildings. A helicopter pad. Concrete on concrete.

And I remember thinking: How did I get here? I’m such a nature person. Which part of me chose… industrial?

That feeling—of not quite being in the right place—was the thing that tipped me off. Because I wasn’t just standing somewhere that felt misaligned. I was looking at a view that didn’t inspire me and realizing I’d somehow created a life I was barely present for.

What’s ironic is that I’ve always cared deeply about living authentically. About building a life that feels like me. And yet, I was so focused on doing that—on managing it, maintaining it, making sure it worked—that I hadn’t really paused to look at what that life actually looked like from a distance.

The Ground-Level View (And Why It’s Okay)

The ground-level view feels a bit like what I imagine a pigeon searching for dinner experiences.

Face down. Pecking. Focused on what’s right in front of you. Maybe bobbing your head up occasionally, but mostly staying close to the ground.

In this context, this looks like constantly thinking about what needs to get done, what didn’t get done, what’s coming next, and who’s responsible for it. It’s very task-oriented. Very immediate.

And to be clear—there’s nothing wrong with this view.

At ground level, we’re often quick to act. We catch important details. We nurture what needs attention right now. This is what caring looks like. This is how things actually get handled.

The trouble starts when we stay here too long.

What once felt energizing or meaningful can start to feel heavy. Serious. Draining. Things that used to feel doable suddenly feel overwhelming or unattainable—not because they are, but because we’re too close to see how they fit into the bigger picture.

Here’s food for thought

Being too close doesn’t mean you lack perspective.

There’s a lot you can see at ground level that you can’t see from the top. This view keeps the nurturing alive. It keeps life moving moment by moment, which—honestly—is how life is actually lived.

Balance doesn’t mean holding everything in perfect equilibrium. That’s a trap, especially for perfectionists. The idea that everything needs to happen a certain way, at a certain time, can be more demotivating than helpful.

Balance here simply means pausing long enough to ask: Which point of view serves me best right now?

Moment by moment.

When Staying Too Close Gets Heavy

The issue with staying in one view for too long—any view—is that it narrows how we see the world.

Imagine getting a map for a hike you’re genuinely excited about, then folding it in half so you can only see the lowest portion of the trail. That lower altitude might be fine if you’re keeping things easy—but if you’re hoping for a challenge or a breathtaking view, you’ve limited yourself without realizing it.

When we stay at ground level too long, small things start to feel more urgent than they actually are. Bigger, more meaningful decisions get postponed because all our energy is tied up managing details that didn’t need quite that much attention.

Decision-making suffers—not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet one. We lose access to creativity, innovation, and aligned action because we’re simply too close to see the opportunity for what it is.

And yet, most of us know this feeling intimately.

Why a Bird’s-Eye View Helps

This is where the bird’s-eye view comes in.

Not as a way to detach. Not as an escape. But as another way to see.

From a little distance, patterns become visible. You get a sense of the roadmap. You can see where things are heading and whether the steps you’re taking are actually leading you where you want to go.

The bird’s-eye view doesn’t replace the care and attention that happens at ground level. It complements it. It reassures you that the effort you’re putting in has direction.

How to Know When to Shift

Here’s the thing: the work isn’t choosing one view over the other.

The work is knowing when to change altitude.

Think about driving on the highway. You don’t pick one lane and stay there forever. You shift lanes based on where you’re headed. You move over when it’s time to exit.

Perspective works the same way.

Each view has its moment. And learning to pause—just long enough to check which vantage point serves you best—can take a surprising amount of weight off your shoulders.

This isn’t about perfection. It’s about timing. And like anything else, it takes practice. But with intention, that pause becomes more natural. More intuitive.

A Quick Way to Check Your Perspective

When things feel heavy, I ask myself: Am I too close to this right now?

When I feel disconnected or stuck in my head, I ask: Am I avoiding the ground-level work that needs my attention?

No overhauls. Just awareness.

Wrapping It Up

You don’t need to change your whole life to gain clarity.

Sometimes it’s just about shifting a few feet—up or down—to get the view that brings you back into alignment.

So think about the thing that’s been sitting on your mind lately. Then ask yourself which vantage point brings you closer to ease, understanding, and forward motion.

Sometimes clarity is only a few feet away.

Timestamp: 8:00 am PST

Written by: Grace Alexis