As I sit in the hammock outside, I feel the warm breeze on my skin.

The breeze comes and goes, and when it goes, I feel the heat of the day settle in.

I lift my head from the computer screen, and my eyes are greeted by the greenery in the form of trees, grass, and the rolling hills of the mountains in the distance. The sky is a shade of the brightest blue I’ve ever seen, contrasting with the white, fluffy clouds; they look soft enough to sleep on. I see rain in the distance, but above my head, the sun is shining bright.

It’s refreshing.

I’m instantly transported back to my childhood—when I would lie on the grass and stare at the sky for hours, imagining the shapes and creating stories in my mind.

I usually write from my office; sometimes I tell myself it’s the only place where I can be productive—a belief I’m ready to squash. I used to think it was distracting to be in a new place, but is it possible the distractions could actually be inspiration?

My eyes dart around to meet each movement as it happens. As the birds land on the concrete in front of me to take a drink from the puddles that the morning rain left behind, it reminds me to take a sip of water. As my dog readjusts and lets out a big sigh of relief, it reminds me to breathe deeply. As a butterfly floats along out of the corner of my periphery, it reminds me to keep it light.

It’s refreshing.

Sometimes, when we feel stuck, it’s not because there’s nowhere to go—maybe we’re taking the wrong path. The stuck feeling is an invitation, not a block. It’s an invitation to step back and take a wide lens perspective.

Possibly, I’ve been digging a tunnel in the wrong direction and if I were to move two feet to the left, the tunnel would open up more easily. My eyes are set on the outcome, rather than the journey. I don’t allow the space to know whether this is actually the direction that I’m meant to travel. By allowing myself to be distracted, I open up to new possibilities, and to a better way.

If we look at the challenge as a chance to take a breather and regroup, is it possible we will gain insight on a new path that wasn’t in our awareness before?

As I sit outside, birds chirping, dogs by my side, sun shining, and the breeze tickling my skin, I realize that this is the wide-angle lens.

What I once deemed as a distraction is now inspiration and motivation.

Just moments before I was plunked down in my office chair, staring at the screen, locked within the four concrete walls. My mind was leaving my body in a state of dissociation—eyes glazed over as my attention drifted to a land far away.

I was physically sitting in my chair, but mentally, I was nowhere to be found. Just by switching it up, I’m 290 words further than I was only 15 minutes ago—and I’m connected.

Imagine that.

Maybe the distractions aren’t distractions at all.

Maybe they’re a cry for attention; for a new perspective. Oftentimes, I find myself so focused on the destination that I block myself from getting there with the pressure I put on myself. If I were to loosen up and allow myself to wander consciously, I could trust what is in front of me is what I’m meant to see instead of putting blinders on and keeping my head down.

So, if you’re feeling stuck, I invite you to find the distractions—not to get lost in them, but to see if they’re trying to tell you something. There may be a path meant to be followed to a destination you could have never dreamt of on your own.

Will you answer the call?