With our free day on Sunday, my group and I perused Pike Place Market in search of something to do. We walked for an hour, unsure of what to spend our money on, where to go. Finally, our course changed. We walked down to the waterfront where our next conquest lied in front of us: The Seattle Great Wheel. I am not big on heights; however, I had forgotten about this fear and was instead excited. Stretching 175 feet tall, this monster stood before me.
Once we got on, the wheel started to slowly move. Then it stopped with a jolt halfway up. At this point we were not too high, so my anxiety levels were mild, but then I looked up and realized we were merely at the middle. The next group of people entered the ferris wheel and then we kept along. As we peaked my stomach turned to knots and I felt as if I would puke. I stared at the black floor of the cabin, attempted to forget where I was, and regretted persuading my group to do this. My mind and body felt totally helpless to my surroundings.
Generally, I’ve noticed anxiety is usually exaggerative and holds no real power or validity. So in that moment — staring at the floor of the cabin, terrified of where I was — I took a deep breath and looked out the window.
Behind me, the water flowed, hypnotically roaming the open sea while passing the time that — for the water — lacks meaning and value. The sun glistened down onto the ocean, gently embracing it with warm arms which for any human, and for all life, provides the comfort and stability many crave. Boats raced happily through the scene and the clouds danced a simple song in the sky. My view was split by distant islands that idly watched this joyous family. The trees on said islands were mesmerized, as I was, completely succumbed to this breathtaking picture. My anxiety was devoured and no longer was I worried. My mind calmed and the banter amongst my friends disappeared into a background noise — I, only picking up traces.
Around we went: one time, two times, three times. The ride ended after our fourth time around and I solemnly walked off. Though sad, I was grateful for what I saw today. People don’t care enough for raw beauty: nature, freckles, red skin, messy hair, dirt, blurry photos. They let the little things keep them from seeing the perfection that lies within everyone and everything, whether that be 25 dollars, or little flaws, or a fear of heights. Everything holds beauty. I wish more people searched for it.
By Alex Taylor
