There is a task at hand.  It requires concentration, narrowing the broad world to a point to get the job done.  Fair enough.  These moments are a big part of my day.

And they tire me out.

One such precision happens to me most Wednesday mornings.  I go for breakfast in The Cobbler, an exquisite space in Gent’s Post Hotel.  The dining room is reached by a circular staircase of fifty steps.  Although there’s an elevator, it’s not as much fun as climbing.

I need to concentrate on each curving riser so my feet find their proper home.  My goal is to reach the top without touching a handrail, and usually I’m successful – plus tired.

However …

I realized this morning that I’m missing something, that I’m denying myself an expanse of beauty.  Halfway down the stairs, I stopped.  I looked up.  And let it all in:

Silly me