Altitude can be an excellent cure for tunnel vision.
If you want to feel insignificant, go climb something; the taller the better.
Mount Morrison — spitting distance from Red Rocks Amphitheatre — is a great spot to put this theory into practice. Its position at the edge of the plains lets you see the Rockies, the city, and the sprawling suburbs in a brilliant panoramic at the peak.
From here, everything from the humblest of homes to the largest mansions look indistinguishable; like tiny plastic monopoly houses crammed into meandering subdivisions.
Here, I’ll show you:
That’s the east side of the summit. Here, you can still hear the city sounds from down in Denver, just beyond Green Mountain. As you step toward the west side, that noise fades away. Instead you get the hum of insects, and the mountain breeze rustling the vibrant wildflowers.
Nothing we accomplish — not even collectively — can stand toe-to-toe with nature. And that’s okay. Climbing to those high places doesn’t just shrink the houses, roads, and cars; it cuts your problems down to size too.
They’re each just a tiny brushstroke in a much bigger, beautiful picture.