My latest 'The Melbourne Anglican' column

I have a new mantra I repeat to myself many times a day, ‘Look up, look up, look up’.

This is not something we do naturally. Homo erectus was always scanning ahead for the next mammoth to arise threateningly on the horizon, the next warrior ambush from their foes. Metaphorically, we modern homo sapiens are constantly looking ahead– the next meeting, the next phone call, the endless to do list that never grows any shorter, no matter how many of the things on it are ticked off. Literally, we spend much of our waking lives gazing down at our smart phones – if you don’t believe me, look around next time you are on the tram.

A few years ago I set myself a task in Sydney Road, a thoroughfare I have walked many hundreds of times. Generally I am in a hurry to get home; on more observant days I am beguiled by the shops and the mix of people at street level. This time, I forced myself to only look up, to the second storeys of the buildings that line that endlessly bustling strip. I walked the two kilometres from Royal Parade to Moreland Road, jotting down descriptions of the upper floors of the buildings I saw and was surprised by the elegance just above the grungy tackiness of ground level.

Elizabeth Street in the city is the same. At street level it is full of tawdry shops; look up and you see high bow windows, delicate cast iron balconies, colourful tiles and swirls of fancy plasterwork.

It’s no accident that our world expands when we look up. Sure, we see things from a different angle, which is always enriching. But I suspect there is also something about our connection with the divine.

I’m not saying that God is on high: God is not up in the clouds, anymore than God is or isn’t in the pavement. God is everywhere – within and around us. But when we let our gaze travel upwards, it forces us to slow down. We can no longer rush. We see more of the natural world, because the endlessly changing sky is always there, reminding us of our own insignificance, reminding us that this too – our anxious plans, our fears, our stressing – will pass. It lifts us above the walls of the prison of our immediate concerns.

‘Homo incurvatus in se’ is a gorgeous description, attributed to Martin Luther, of humanity curved in upon itself, oblivious to the other and to the Divine. Looking up – literally looking out and away from ourselves – helps us to open up that endlessly striving self-absorption, restoring our perspective. It reveals the big picture – the sun that rises every day, the constant stars. Even in the heart of the CBD, it connects us with the creation, which inevitably reminds us of the creator. It gives rise to joy, it gives rise to praise. Look up look up look up.

Comments

[Sally Polmear]

Yes- look up from our devices and be surprised by the world! Enjoyed your reflections Clare- rather serendipitous actually, as we have the same mindfulness "homework" in our Mindful Meditation class this week- to "Look Up", in particular with Spring having arrived. There is so much beauty to enjoy with the blossoming flowers and big clouds.