Perspective

So I'm developing this bad habit of starting blog posts and then not finishing. But really, it always seems to happen that they would have been missing something anyway. I started this post a few weeks ago, but when this painting was brought up in one of my classes today, I knew it needed to be included.

"La Condition Humaine" René Magritte, 1933

On my mission, my trainer would often talk about her desire to be "quick to observe," as it talks about in the scriptures. I, being the naive little greenie, was so proud of myself for having this trait down. I mean, I noticed everything. We would leave someone's house, and I'd be like, "did you notice that sign on the side of their door?" (or something equally trivial), and of course she hadn't, which only furthered my foolish pride in the matter. This scenario replayed several times, and I was content in knowing that I was, indeed, quick to observe. 

Well, naturally, as life is only too happy to teach us, I found out that I wasn't as great as I thought I was. I wasn't so much quick to observe as I was quick to judge, and that often got (gets) me in trouble. Turns out, it's something that I really struggle with! I am starting to realize that my problem here has more to do about perspective than anything. I am quick to observe, that is true, but then I am prone to making snap judgments about what I see, without pausing to consider any alternatives. So this is my 2 cents about perspective. Take it for what it's worth...

You probably know how much I love Harry Potter. You may remember in HP 7.1 when Hermione, Ron, and Harry narrowly escape a brush with the wedding-crashing death eaters,

and Hermione gets so upset that they didn't celebrate Harry's birthday. Harry reminds her that they had just avoided being killed a few minutes previous, to which Hermione responds, simply, "Right. Perspective." (Here's the scene, in case you wanted a visual:)

A few weeks ago in my random honors lecture class, this art professor was giving a presentation, and he told us about something that completely blew his mind. He was at the park playing with his kids when he realized that the shadows you see while you're on the merry-go-round are totally different from the shadows you see when you're on the ground, and it hit him: God can see everything. At the same time.

And here we are, like little kids, just hanging on to the merry-go-round, and seeing the shadows and thinking we know everything. We think that we can see everything that's going on, but we can really only see part of what's going on--even when a different perspective doesn't even seem like a possibility to us. Perspective!

Okay. On to my stories.
So while on our little weekend Boston trip, I had three experiences that, much like with this art professor, kind of blew my mind.

#1
We were on the bus coming back from church. We were sitting in the very back, and I was sitting in one of those aisle-facing seats. I noticed this old Asian man sitting a few rows up. He was laughing to himself and throwing his hands up in the air and clapping, like any good loon would do. And I just thought to myself, "I love crazy people." So that would have been the end of the story: the crazy old Asian man I saw on the bus. Until Megan nudged me. She was sitting on the back row and had a good view of the whole bus. She told me to lean forward so I could see what she was looking at. It turns out that just in front of that old man was a cute little kid in a stroller... who was in desperate need of someone to play peek-a-boo with. That old man had obliged, and they were engaged in the cutest game of peek-a-boo I've ever seen. The old man would seriously do anything to make the little boy laugh. Most adorable thing I've ever seen.

(creeper picture from Megan's phone)

#2

We were walking through this outdoor market one night just as it was closing down. There was a woman walking in front of us, and I noticed that her produce kept falling out of her little metal rolling cart. She would stop every once in a while to collect her renegade items, swiftly stooping almost without missing a step. I commented to Megan, "Man, that stuff just won't stay in her cart, will it?" To which she responded, "Those things weren't in her cart--she's stealing them from off the ground." The silence of my stupidity ensued.

#3    

Again, on the bus. As the bus came to a bus stop, the guy standing there was obviously intending to get on, but it seemed to me that he was sure taking his sweet time. I was so annoyed that he was holding up the entire bus by being slow to get on. When he finally moseyed onto the bus, I said something about it to Megan. Then she, obviously being the wiser sister, said, "didn't you see the blind man waiting at the bus stop too? That other guy was telling him which bus was arriving." There had been a pole on the sidewalk, conveniently blocking my view of the blind man.


Just like that painting, in each of these situations, something was always blocking my view of reality--even if, in some cases, it was just my own hasty assessment. When looking at that painting within a painting, you really have no idea what could be going on behind the easel. And that lack of perspective is maybe showing the real picture, or it's maybe just keeping you from seeing the real picture. Either way, these are some life lessons, folks. And here's to hoping I'll stop judging things for what they are--or are not.