August 3: "Height," Acrophobia, Lily

Billy Collins doesn't suffer from vertigo . . . 

Height

by: Billy Collins

Viewed from the roof of a tall building,

people on the street

are said to take on the appearance of ants,

but I have been up here for so long

gazing down over the parapet,

that the ants below have begun to resemble people.

Look at that one lingering

near a breadcrumb on the curb,

does he not share the appearance of my brother-in-law?

And the beautiful young ant

in the light summer dress

with the smooth, ovoid hear,

the one heading up the lamppost--

could she not double for my favorite cousin

with her glad eyes and her pulled-back hair?

Surely, one with the face

of my mother and another with the posture

of my father will soon go hobbling by.

I'm not a fan of high places.  I learned this fact about myself in the absolute worst place for a person who suffers acrophobia--at the top of the Empire State Building.  Before that day, I'd never had a panic attack in my life.  But there I was, 1,250 feet above Manhattan, trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest like an alien parasite.

Nowadays, I avoid situations that put me in high places--buildings, summits, roofs, trees, porches, bridges.  Every Saturday, I play the pipe organ in the choir loft of a Catholic church.  That means I'm about 20 or 30 feet above the sanctuary.  How do I manage to do this?  I'll share my secret:  I don't look down unless absolutely necessary.

I played tonight.  Avoided the railing.  Glanced down only once or twice.  The Mass went well.  There were more people in the pews than I expected.  It was warm again today, but not quite as humid.  So, it didn't feel like I was being slowly broiled as I played.  And, outside the church, the flower garden was open for business.

I often think those wide-angle, Cinemascope views of landscapes are humbling.  Nothing can make you feel more insignificant.  However, sticking my face into those blossoms as I left church this evening was humbling, too.  A universe of beauty in the mouth and breath of a lily.

Saint Marty was grounded and flying at the same time.