We found four seats together at the event. We didn’t want to wait in line several hours before the doors opened. We had no line when we arrived, so the close seats were filled. It was okay, because pretty much every seat in the arena was good. We were relatively close to the stage at a little higher than eye level. We could also see the screens. We settled in for the evening.

We later made plans to change our seats for the following day, We weren’t going to arrive early enough to get seats close to the stage, and we would be content to watch the screens. There would be less congestion higher in the arena, not just in the seating area but also the hallways and, of course, the restrooms. Our plan worked the next day. And it gave me a new perspective.

I realized there were layered rugs on the stage. I couldn’t see them before. They added color, and they probably added comfort to those standing for long periods and perhaps better acoustics. I started to look around and consider what else I’d missed. Not that I would have noticed I had missed something. My experience would have been full even if we hadn’t moved. But I simultaneously noticed details and a bigger picture.

Just as the rugs were layered, so was my perspective. It’s the way it is in everyday life. I can see the layers if I’m willing to change my perspective, climb some steps to see more, or sit in the details. Not everything will be significant—I didn’t really care whether there were layered rugs on the stage or not—but the shift reminds me there is more. It reminds me I shouldn’t get stuck. It reminds me there are ways to move mentally and emotionally even if I don’t or can’t move physically. It reminds me of the possibilities, stabilities, and opportunities.

Shift your seat, or at least, your eyes, today.

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