Palm-lined beachfront promenade in Nha Trang, Vietnam, with clear blue skies and gentle waves lapping the shore, offering a serene urban escape.

Palm-lined beachfront promenade |  Nha Trang, Vietnam

From the 22nd floor the waves washing up on the beach looked like lace. The waves were relentless, dumping at a fast rhythmic pace, driven by a monsoon in the South China Sea that was battering the Philippines. The sound of the waves was a constant roar as layers of surf crashed in long lines up the coast. Sound travels up. The 22nd floor was noisy. Despite the incessant beeping of horns below and the distant sound of a dragon dance being performed in the park, the ocean’s volume prevailed. Normally, I might enjoy this constant white noise, but I found myself longing for quiet. Down on the street level, the roar of the ocean is beaten by the close up sounds of the city of Nha Trang in Vietnam.

My walks were bombarded by traffic sounds and street pedlars. I even had a lady follow me across a busy road trying to sell me a mini ukulele. There was no pedestrian crossing either, so I was pre-occupied with survival at the time, slowing inching forward a few steps at a time, allowing the motorbikes to dodge my slow steady march forward. In between arching my back to suck my backpack in a little to avoid the brush of a larger truck whizzing by, I politely declined the offer of a musical instrument purchase.

I made it across the street and in the building. The elevator dinged. I stepped out on the 22nd floor. There was an open walkway from the elevator to the room. All the sounds below funnelled up the building, this time mixed with the ocean roar. I actually recall yelling at the ocean to shut up.

Looking down from the 22nd floor balcony onto the bustling streets of Nha Trang, Vietnam, with a unique aerial view of ocean surf, palm trees, and sandy beach.

Looking down from the 22nd floor balcony with a unique aerial view of ocean surf, palm trees, and sandy beach | Nha Trang, Vietnam

Once inside the room, I stood at the window and looked out to sea. The view was stunning. Despite being behind thick floor to ceiling glass, I felt tingly weakness in my knees. It is a quite literal sensation, I feel in my knees when confronted with extreme height. I am not scared of heights but the vulnerability of heights causes a physical knee tingle. I guess it is the adrenaline hit and my sympathetic system kicking in.

Aerial view of Nha Trang beach's white foamy waves meeting the sandy shore, flanked by lush palm trees and beach umbrellas

Aerial view of Nha Trang beach's white foamy waves meeting the sandy shore, flanked by lush palm trees and beach umbrellas

I sat down and watched the swirling pattern of the sea foam. The foam washed up, running up the sand and then sucked out. The ocean looked to be breathing. The sea foam band was deep and I imagined the foam as panels of intricate Chantilly lace. I grabbed my sketchbook. Later I turned my pencil drawing into a digital design, adding a chalky hue.

This meditative observation, akin to watching shapes in the clouds, resonated with a recent episode of the Tim Ferris Show I listened to.

Tim Ferriss and Stanford neurobiologist Andrew Huberman discussed the calming effects of widening our field of vision. Huberman introduced the concept of opening our eyes to embrace a panoramic view, a practice that shifts our body from a state of stress to one of relaxed alertness. This technique, which leverages the natural connection between our visual system and the brain’s stress regulation, is especially relevant in our screen-dominated lives.

Pencil sketch of a tropical seascape, featuring detailed wave patterns resembling Chantilly lace and a grove of palm trees sketched on a notebook

Excerpt from my travel sketchbook of the pencil sketch featuring detailed wave patterns resembling Chantilly lace and a grove of palm trees, the view from the 22nd floor | Nha Trang, Vietnam

Huberman reassures us that even if we can’t sit outside and take in a vast vista, we can still adjust how we us our eyes, right where we are. Instead of focusing intently on a single point, we allow our gaze to soften and widen. Let your eyes relax, not focusing on anything in particular, and imagine your field of vision expanding to include everything in your peripheral vision – much like when admiring a beautiful sunset.

Inspired by this podcast, I understood why we are drawn to panoramic scenes and why landscape art and photography are so beloved. It’s incredibly relaxing to take in.

Exploring Andrew Huberman’s insights reveal a transformative idea; our habitual focus, often narrowed by screens and pages, can broaden to invite tranquility and spark creativity. Adjusting our gaze to encompass the vastness around us unlocks a calm state of mind, achievable even without expansive landscapes at our doorstep.

Digitally transformed pencil drawing now featuring pastel hues of pink and blue, elegantly framed, depicting the rhythmic lace-like patterns of ocean waves above a serene palm grove

Digitally transformed pencil drawing now featuring pastel hues of pink and blue, elegantly framed, depicting the rhythmic lace-like patterns of ocean waves above a palm grove.

Pastel-themed bedroom with a framed tropical wall art of ocean waves and palm trees, complementing the soft mint, yellow, and pink bed linens, invoking a serene and artistic atmosphere.

The artwork inspired by the view from the 22nd floor, is now part of the Tropical Haze Collection available in my shop (here). It serves as a tangible reminder of the calm that panoramic views can offer. I encourage you to find your own moment of peace, let your eyes wander, and broaden your gaze. May this simple practice bring you closer to the peace and inspiration that lies just beyond the narrow focus of our everyday vision.


x Bella

February 24, 2024

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