When I was a child I enjoyed running up to the top of hills, climbing trees and ascending various structures. I especially enjoyed my father placing me on his shoulders so I could see over a crowd like a giant. I had similar experiences in the cornfields of Iowa. I can remember the thrill of running through a field of corn with my friends — it was so easy to get disoriented. Occasionaly one of us would need to be hoisted up above the tops of the stalks inorder to find our way home. It still amazes me how little shifts in our vantage point change the way we perceive space — altering the way our minds process the world we live in. This shift in perspective can be alarming, like when you see drone footage of a community ravaged by a natural disaster. It can be thrilling, like when you see photographs of earth taken from space for the first time. The way we perceive the physical world depends on our vantage point.
For a period of time, I lived on the 15th floor of a mid-rise condo building in downtown Las Vegas. As I ascended to my unit at the end of each day I could feel a calm flow over me. When I arrived in my unit I was greeted by the mountains that circled the valley. I could observe my nieghborhood and city in a unique way. Like a voyeur I was able to observe the dynamic metropolis without participating or getting soiled. I could see police cars rushing to the scene of an accident. I could watch thousands of people attending a parade. Although I don’t use a Fitbit to monitor my vitals, I am quite sure living far above the chaos of the street lowered my blood preasure. Some of us get addicted to changing our vantage point and take great risks to do so. On a recent trip to the California coast, I spent several hours watching paragliders launch off the cliffs and hours later land in a open field. I imagined what it would be like to have that kind of freedom — to experience the environment in that particular way. Someday I might marshal the courage to join them.