Vacation Eyes

Sometimes when existence is feeling pretty lame-o I try to remember to see things with my "vacation eyes." Apparently Marcel Proust said "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes." Not that I've read anything of his, but that's a pretty thing to say and golly gosh that Proust seems darn well full of pith/very pithy.

I like to do this with food. Doesn't prettily prepared and plated dining spur a slow and thoughtful savoring? Isn't a hard-boiled egg, in a dining room, with nice lighting, and maybe some paprika, a wonder? Can't I bring my vacation eyes home with me and see the skyline, and my egg, and my neighborhood like a visitor? We have to be more alert in new situations and places, but a little forced alertness can bring some newness of depth to habituated life. It's a yoga thing, too - I've heard a few times that being new to your practice every day is important, by which I mean that practicing like you are doing something for the first time is a deliberate state of mind (and not incompatible with drawing upon your accumulated knowledge of yoga, either). I heard this the other day in yoga when the teacher said something about having to interact with someone she doesn't like, and a friend advised her to treat the person like they were just meeting for the first time. That's a neat little mind bender game to play on yourself. Handy idea.