Looking Up

When I was a child, I spent countless hours playing in our garden.  We had the big garden on one side of the house and that was where we would play badminton in the late afternoon. At night on special occasions, eight or more big round tables would fill the lawn to hold our family and friends. I remember how the grass felt cool and damp as I step onto it from our verandah and run off to dart around the tables with my young cousins. But it was in the pockets of trees and vines that wrapped around our house that I found my own world.

It was one full of light and green, champaca scents and endless adventures. When it was sunny, I would open the screen door from our living room, inspect the orchid wall in front of me for new blooms, turn to my left to watch the big red ants crawling up the chico tree, walk a few steps to stuff my pockets with fat pieces of kamias fruits (which I would later dip in rock salt) and skip past the papaya and banana trees as I duck and weave through wet laundry hung on the line to dry.

At the end I would walk slowly and into my favourite spot.  It was in one corner of the garden where the bougainvillea branches converged to create a sun-dappled canopy. I would stand there looking up, absorbing the vision of light penetrating green. I felt full in my aloneness and in my dreaming. During the monsoon season, I would come around from the other side of the house and run across the pebbled ground in my slippery rubber sandals.  Looking up I would wait for the soft cool drops of rain to puddle on the leaves and fall onto my face. I would stand there soaking in the muted drumming of the rain.

So perhaps it is no wonder that I often find myself looking up whenever I'm out walking.

Somehow I'm not just walking down to our local cafe or picking up my dry cleaning. As soon as I'm looking up, my experience changes. Suddenly I become more aware of myself in this world in this moment.

What is it about looking up? We look up when we dream, try to remember, search for hope, pray, take a breath or recharge ourselves with the sun. As children, we look up and reach out for connection with our parents, our lifeline at that age. In fact, my cat Tofu does exactly the same thing. When I come home at the end of the day or let her in our room in the morning, she would come over, look up at me with soft eyes and stretch her neck upwards so her head can meet the stroke of my hand. Trees and plants are perpetually looking up to the sun to make them grow. 

Maybe I'm looking up for all these reasons or not at all except for the sheer pleasure of doing it.