I climbed to the top of the Pyramid of the Moon and the Pyramid of the Sun outside Mexico City. I huffed and puffed every step of the way but I did make it. And I celebrated by facing each direction from the top of the Sun and silently voicing my gratitude for (a) the physical ability to have made the climb, (b) the sense of adventure that caused me to have to make it, (c) and the friends that support me even though they are no longer able to endure such a test of their bodies.
Later in the day, our little tour group traveled to the Basilica. Three buildings represent the history of the people who embrace the Virgin of Guadalupe. One sits atop the hill and was built in the 14th century or so. The second looks very much like every other cathedral in the world except for the fact that it's sinking. You can face it and see a difinite leaning toward the left. And the third is circa 1970s and is very much alive today.
The guide told us the sinking was partially caused by the fact that the facility was built on a pyramid. Didn't take me long to deduce that even in the 1600s it didn't pay to try and build a church on top of the context rather than alongside it.
Often I see things from a perspective gained from looking at several directions. Many might disagree with my conclusions. But nevertheless I'm grateful. I like the view from where I am.