As a full time commuter in Old London Town,   my walk is often habitual in its sheer mundane nature. The same steps at the same time of the day, similar blurred footsteps and soft leaves on the ground. I don’t even need to look up from scrolling to deftly navigate the 10 minute stroll from Charing Cross, to the place I call work.

Tourists spend their time glancing every inch of London from bottom to top. Tourists sometimes get in the way, granted, but they’ve got something completely and utterly right! Why don’t we look upwards? The architecture that surrounds us wasn’t made to eye level. Its scale is so impactful that you can’t help but feel like a minuscule piece of something so much bigger than yourself. 

Earlier this year I was a Tourist in NEW YORK CITY – an absolute dream of a city – the scale is incomparable to anything I have ever experienced before. I spent the whole time looking UP. Because I wanted to take the whole thing in, soak it up and be a part of the rhythm, the heartbeat of the City.

In recent weeks I have experienced a low lying haze. The more in tune with my own sadness that I became, the more I averted my gaze, the more my eyes would droop down and the more (I realise now) I sort of started to cease to exist in those empty footsteps from here to “over there”.

This evening instead of rushing I took my time. I took a breath and I looked up. I saw a skyline that was a distant memory, I held its gaze and stood knowing I, little old me, was a part of this awesome bassline of the City.

It made me think – shouldn’t we all just look up a little more in life? There’s more than just picturesque skylines painted with history or modernity. Looking up says “I’m here” – and doesn’t apologise for it. Looking up is political in a world that wants us not to see, that wants us to hide. Looking up is choosing to see what is right there in front of you.

Why don’t I look up more?

I would look down when I disappointed people. I couldn’t meet their gaze. It hurt. 

The weight of the disappointment would manifest itself like a gravitational pull to

my eyeline.

When I lost a sports match or I let in a goal my glance would fall away, ashamed and displaced. “Chin up” my teammates would say, but there my eyes remained.

When my body confidence descended to the pits, so too did my stare. I couldn’t look myself in the eye let alone stand proudly, head held high, claiming my space in the world. Worthlessness is exhausting. It strains your neck and holds your mind to ransom.

I have recently been involved in some recruitment, and I notice straight away those people who can’t claim their space, whose focus is so low down that it’s internal. I want to help them to look up and meet my eyes – because if they did,  they would see that I am trying to greet them with a healthy encouraging smile. If they looked up and out  maybe things would feel a little better.

Do yourself a favour.  Test yourself. Look up.

You never know, you might just see more clearly than you thought possible. You may be a little less harsh on yourself, you may be kinder.

When I was at my lowest body confidence, I forced myself to look at my image in the mirror and say what I loved about me, out loud. It was hard. But eventually I could identify those positives. The perspective began to reveal new things every time I looked up. It’s a journey but it starts by looking up, being kind to yourself and facing the mirror like you will one day face the world.

And who knows, maybe things are looking up afterall?

It’s got to be worth thinking about, no? 

TIB