Some Thoughts on Perspective

Each bloom is unique; together they become special anew.

It seems, in this hotly-contested political season, that even when the two sides say they want the same thing for our country, they feel compelled to find mutually exclusive solutions. We hear words like “partisan politics” and “non-compromising positions” so frequently that they have taken on a life of their own, seeming now more important than the issues at hand. Attack and blame substitute for collegial action on behalf of the citizens these people ostensibly represent.

“A democracy is nothing more than mob rule, where fifty-one percent of the people may take away the rights of the other forty-nine.” ― Thomas Jefferson

I, like most Americans, am bombarded daily by the onslaught of political messages flooding the airwaves. I have wearied of the intrusion of politics into social media, wishing that, instead of flogging each other with the vitriol collected from websites hither and yon, we could talk about the issues without so much rancor. Why are we so angry? In the privacy of our own thoughts, do we really believe that our anger will make things better? Or are we just allowing ourselves to be manipulated by those who feed our fears?

“When a man wants to murder a tiger he calls it sport; when a tiger wants to murder him he calls it ferocity.”

― George Bernard Shaw

In fairness to all concerned, we humans all too often lose our ability to see beyond the ends of our noses. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and it seems to me a little perspective can go a long way toward more happiness in our lives and less misunderstanding.

“What we see depends mainly on what we look for.” ― John Lubbock

Close at hand are so many instances that might help us look at life with more balance, less angst. In my case, life is enriched daily by one man’s journal of hope. It is a testament to courage in the face of adversity, faith in the face of fear. The journal, updated online multiple times each day, chronicles the open-heart surgery of the journal writer’s partner, a friend whom I was lucky enough to meet at a business gathering many years ago. The patient is someone I know as a good and decent man, now fighting for his life. One might think him always fit, always healthy. In reality, his heart was sick and needed repair. So he has undergone a very serious operation and now, cared for by excellent medical expertise and a loving partner, he fights to recuperate. As I follow his partner’s journal, I marvel at the strength and endurance both patient and caregiver are displaying.

“Some people grumble that roses have thorns; I am grateful that thorns have roses.” ― Alphonse Karr

I was reminded by a high school friend’s post on Facebook of a favorite teacher we had. He encouraged us to learn through questioning. While debate was often provoked in his classroom, it was managed and tempered with civility. When passions ran too high, he reminded us that our differences of opinion were just that, differences and opinions, none life-threatening. For myself, in the arrogance and ignorance of my youth, I espoused and defended positions that were outdated and ill-informed, primarily due to lack of experience and perspective. Rather than chide me, our wise teacher encouraged me both to speak my mind and, more importantly, to listen to other views.

“It is a narrow mind which cannot look at a subject from various points of view.” ― George Eliot

There is a wonderful saying about perspective that goes something like this: “I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet.” The world recently watched such a man who had no feet, Oscar Pistorius, run in competition with footed athletes in the recent Summer Olympic Games. The sheer inspiration this man embodies remains vividly in my thoughts. Any time I’m inclined to whine about the psoriasis that hurts my feet, I think of Oscar. It’s not just the wonder of watching him run on those amazing springs, but the genuine joy he expressed in interviews after coming in last in the semi-finals of his event. He obviously understands that winning is a different thing than being number one.

“When it rains it pours. Maybe the art of life is to convert tough times to great experiences: we can choose to hate the rain or dance in it.”

― Joan Marques

In looking at what others have said about perspective, I’ve found so many different ways of expressing it. A favorite thought comes from Jane Yolen’s writing in Briar Rose: “Fairy Tales always have a happy ending.” [so they say] “That depends... on whether you are Rumpelstiltskin or the Queen.”

Photo by Mike Lumpkin

Morning Magic

Some of the most magical times I’ve experienced have been mornings. There’s something primitive in me that appreciates the dawning of a new day, that reassuring appearance of first light. It’s a beginning, or to indulge in redundancy, a new beginning. It’s a step into the unknown, the future that unfolds a minute at a time as we rub our eyes, sip that first cup of hot tea and open the door to feel the air and hear the sounds. Whatever came before, each morning promises a chance for something new.

The days that we spend at the lake are especially inspiring. When it’s foggy with the clouds hanging low across the mountains, I’m reminded of a morning walk in Edinburgh when we could barely see three feet ahead, but ventured into a blufftop park and met an elderly Scotsman and his “wee doggie” and heard a tale of his wartime days. We struggled to understand his accent, but reveled in his delight in telling tales.

On those mornings when we see the first pinks and lavenders of the rising run across the eastern end of the lake, I think back to mornings at the Outer Banks. Mike and I like to get up early and head out to the dune to watch the sun come up from the ocean. Before the sun breaks the horizon, the sky above the water is painted with all the glorious colors of the clouds in the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling. It is spellbinding.

One of the joys of the cruises we’ve taken has been early morning walks around the deck as the ship moves through the water. The sense of adventure is heightened by the first sight of the next port as we circle the deck before breakfast, breathing in the ocean air and hearing the cries of gulls that have come out to greet the ship.  Often, we enjoy a last sight of the moon before it disappears from the sky.

Our mornings in North Carolina often begin with the musical gobbling of wild turkeys in the woods around our house. In many places, near and far, we’ve awakened to the voices of cardinals, loons, hawks and eagles, the buzzing of hummingbirds speeding around the feeder, and the chattering of squirrels. Their presence connects us to nature and to the earth, assuring us that we belong together in this world.

I remember cold mornings as a child when, snuggled in bed, I didn’t want to get up. I imagined that I would just stay there, tucked into the warmth of the quilts, forever and ever. It seems funny now that I didn’t want to yield to bedtime back then, but also resisted getting up in the morning.

I remember, too, mornings when I couldn’t rise quickly enough. Those were the days when we were going fishing with Daddy or going on vacation with the whole family. They were the days when, despite giggling late into the night with sleepover friends, we leapt out of bed in the morning to pursue whatever schemes we’d plotted the night before.

Now, though I sometimes wish for a few more minutes of sleep and stumble through the routine of getting up, dressed and out the door, I relish anew the experience of being up and about when few others are there. I cherish those first sights and sounds and the sure sense that the day ahead, whatever it brings, is mine for the living.