The Curse of Perspective

Fall - like any season - is all about perspective. Some people like the cooler temperatures and a return to normalcy, while others see the season only as a desperately short respite until the arrival of a long, frigid winter. Perspective - always in the eye of the beholder.

Each fall I launch another school year with an introduction to the concept of perspective. Middle schoolers, whose brains are beginning to bristle with ever-more complex ideas and opinions, are ripe for my droning lecture and examples. "Kids, when expressing your perspective remember, there is no right or wrong, only opinion." Yes, Mr. Bergman.

Ironically, perspective has two definitions that maddeningly defy one another. The concept I teach students, that perspective is the way people interpret something based on their own personal experience and understanding, should lead towards the other perspective - possessing insight and wisdom acquired over time through experience.

Alas, if only . . .

In our politics, in our religion, in our loyalties, in our relationships - we can be cursed by an excess of our own perspective. This kind of perspective often hinders honesty, hinders happiness, hinders healing, hinders harmony. Instead, it may spark acrimony, misunderstanding, hurt, even misery. Opposing political parties retreat to their corners, accomplishing little for their constituencies; these children of God and those children of God war endlessly, perverting their own faith's teachings of love and compassion; friends drift away from each other, grieving the absence for years; lovers part in dazed confusion, left with only heartache for companionship, as well as the discouraging thought of starting over again with someone new.

Perhaps free will is overrated. As well as the gift of speech.

The animal kingdom - minus all of humanity's interference - seems to get along just fine without words. Sure, they communicate in their own way, but instinct appears to be more than an adequate substitute for speech.

After all, when was the last time you saw . . .

 . . . Mr. and Mrs. Robin arguing over household chores? I've never heard Mr. Robin grumble, "fine, I'll build the damn nest."

. . . or Mrs. Mountain Gorilla pack her bags for the last time because her mate was a mean drunk who apologized every single next morning but kept right on drinking just the same?

. . . or Mr. Owl retreat into stubborn silence over a perceived slight from Mrs. Owl, rather than meet her halfway and say he was sorry for being a dumb jerk?

. . . or two dogs play separately when they could be playing together?

The first sense humans develop is hearing. But as soon as we discover sound coming out of our own mouths, the game is on - a lifelong competition between the desire to be heard and the knowledge that listening, not just hearing, is pretty damn important too. Sadly, in our desire to be heard, we often overlook someone else's perspective as we trip over ourselves to formulate a rebuttal.

Still, I'd rather be a human than a robin or gorilla or owl or dog. While they probably don't experience the emotional lows we do, their highs can't compare. While they instinctively mate, care for their young, work together in pairs or groups, and protect one another from prey, they can never connect with their own species the way humanity consciously does with each other - connecting as a people, as a faith, as a family, as friends, or as lovers.

I suppose that is the price we pay - this occasional curse of perspective. The ability to experience so much joy has to be tempered by an equal amount of sorrow. After all, only people knowingly and unknowingly cause each other emotional pain. Only people struggle to meet each other halfway. Only people withhold expressing thoughts and feelings to one another out of fear. And only people let misunderstanding become hurt, which can harden into resentment. 

But, thankfully, we are also the only species who possess a sophisticated level of self-awareness to change - to learn from our mistakes, without the benefit of a sharpened instinct, and apply those lessons as we keep moving forward together as a human family.