Perspective is Everything!
I have been to Shea Stadium several times in my life. Each time, it’s fun to sit in the stands and take in a game – whether they win or lose. After a while, though, you lose the novelty and fall into a sort of comfort of non-surprises or non-expectancy.
However, when you go to a game at Shea, with a three-year-old who has never seen a live sporting event, the entire experience takes on a new twist and you see the game through three-year-old eyes and boy, is it different and exciting! That’s how it was for me yesterday, when we attended a special Father’s Day Mets game with my niece and family.
The experience of seeing things through her eyes made me think about perspective in a different, less abstract way. The way we view things can color our overall approach in so many ways, yet we seldom stop ourselves from forming opinions when we are clouded by perspective.
You find this kind of opinion forming in all aspects of our lives and no one realizes its power in determining how we live.
For example, if I had gone purely on perspective, I would never have married, let alone dated, my husband. A lot of people said that someone - especially a man – so much younger than I am would have become a huge burden to me in the long run. They might have argued that he would be entirely too immature and ill prepared to take on the role of husband and provider. Had I gone with my initial instinct based solely on my perspective of men his age, I would have forgone the very best thing that has ever happened to me. My original perspective, which led to my ill-conceived opinion on the matter, would have clouded my views and I would have passed on a truly amazing guy.
You may not think that the old adage “Don’t judge a book by its cover” is seeped in the very nature of perspective, but it is. If everyone judged books by their poorly treated, torn, or yellowed cover, no one would ever pick up a classic that has been collecting dust on an old library shelf and discover all the treasures hidden within its words.
No matter what you do, you cannot escape perspective. It is in what we do and how we think. It is ingrained in our nature and we don’t realize how often it determines how we lead our lives. However, we can attempt to make better decisions by being more aware. Whatever you think you see, stop a moment and rethink it before going forward. Everything is not as it seems. If the grass is truly greener on the other side, at some point, won’t someone be looking at you and thinking your grass looks greener?
Recently, I stood outside of a perfectly lovely house with beautifully manicured lawns and blossoming shrubs and flowers. In its driveway was a shiny minivan and behind that an equally shiny family sedan. From my vantage point, all appears well. I imagine a beautiful life is being had by all of its inhabitants. How could anything go wrong in such a perfect setting? A bit of envy envelops me and I long for the kind of existence that I am witnessing before my eyes.
Yet as I draw closer to the perfect house, little hints start to give away its secrets. The windows have chipped, old paint peeling and settling on the front porch. The perfect rocking chairs out front have a thick, sticky layer of dirt and probably have not seen a sponge or wipe in months. The windows are darkened by grim and dust. Here and there children’s toys are strewn about untouched with spider webs and dirt covering them.
I let myself into the empty house because the lock is broken and no one bothered to fix it. The door creaks alive with movement and when I step in, the scent of abandonment and disrepair flood my nostrils and saddened me instantly. There are hints of childhood lying about, an old highchair, a pacifier, a dirty, broken doll and a deflating basketball. There are a couple of pieces of dusty furniture, but it looks mostly like someone started to decorate, then with a deep sigh of acceptance, gave up the task. I walk around taking in each room, seeing the kitchen with its lovely cabinetry covered in dust and old splattered grease. The refrigerator has its door ajar and its bulb has long ago burned out. There is a deep humming in the background, but I cannot make out what appliance is still on and emitting the house’s only sound. I stand at the foot of the steps leading to the second floor and as I am about to step on that first one, I change my mind. The second floor will just be a continuation of the first. More sadness and more abandonment in every corner will greet me and I prefer not to go there. I turn to go and pull the creaking door behind me. I walk down the crumbling walk to my car. I didn’t notice that before. I sit inside my car a few minutes just staring at this house. My perspective was so off. I thought all manner of wonderful life was being held within its doors. With a heavy heart, I drive away. All the while I wonder how many other times I have felt one way about someone or something, only to find out it was another way that I would never have guessed. How many times have I decided this was how it had to be and never realized my mistake?
How many friends did I not make because I decided before I knew that they were just not right for me to befriend? How many places have I not visited because the news made the decision for me and, seeing one photo, my perspective made me believe what was not really there to begin with?
As I pull into my own driveway, the images of the perfect house still fresh in my mind, I notice our uncared for lawn in need of a good landscaper. I take in the smallness of the house that we will later list as “cozy” in a real estate ad. I step out of my car and walk to my door. When I open it, the warmth of living comes at me all at once. My dog comes rushing toward me, his tail wagging with the signs of joy and contentment. I look and see my cat in the windowsill. She is taking in the view of neighborhood cats that get to roam about outdoors. I call for my husband and he answers me from another room. His voice is strong and comforting. Scents of life and food fill the space around me. I shut the door and lean against it for a moment. I want to take this all in. For all that I think I lack, I soon understand, I have it all. All of the joy in me overwhelms me.
Suddenly I wake up.
In my dream, I saw that abandoned house and knew it well, but still it was all just a dream. All the while, my perspective was off. I believed only good things about that house and its people. I was wrong. I judged that book by its cover and in this case, it was the cover worth reading and not the contents. With a start, I realize that sometimes there is truth in dreams.
I soon realize that I am in my bed in my small, less than perfect, but very happy home. I look at the clock on my nightstand in the dark room. It is 3:15 a.m. Soon my husband will wake up to start his day. With him, thankfully, my final instincts were right. He is a mature, responsible man, more mature than his wife. He is a homeowner and hard worker and a good and devoted husband. Perhaps your perspective of him will be different, but I know the truth. It is all that matters.
He will need to get up soon, but I still have time left before I start my day. I pull the covers tighter around me, the chill of the air-conditioned room making it inviting for sleep. I hear Joe’s soft breathing beside me. Happily, I shut my eyes again, but they are wide open now with a clear understanding of my poor perspective and how susceptible it is and how easily it is tricked by what I see and what people say. They say that seeing is believing. I disagree and now I understand why. With calmness, contentment and a smile, I turn over and go back to sleep.
However, when you go to a game at Shea, with a three-year-old who has never seen a live sporting event, the entire experience takes on a new twist and you see the game through three-year-old eyes and boy, is it different and exciting! That’s how it was for me yesterday, when we attended a special Father’s Day Mets game with my niece and family.
The experience of seeing things through her eyes made me think about perspective in a different, less abstract way. The way we view things can color our overall approach in so many ways, yet we seldom stop ourselves from forming opinions when we are clouded by perspective.
You find this kind of opinion forming in all aspects of our lives and no one realizes its power in determining how we live.
For example, if I had gone purely on perspective, I would never have married, let alone dated, my husband. A lot of people said that someone - especially a man – so much younger than I am would have become a huge burden to me in the long run. They might have argued that he would be entirely too immature and ill prepared to take on the role of husband and provider. Had I gone with my initial instinct based solely on my perspective of men his age, I would have forgone the very best thing that has ever happened to me. My original perspective, which led to my ill-conceived opinion on the matter, would have clouded my views and I would have passed on a truly amazing guy.
You may not think that the old adage “Don’t judge a book by its cover” is seeped in the very nature of perspective, but it is. If everyone judged books by their poorly treated, torn, or yellowed cover, no one would ever pick up a classic that has been collecting dust on an old library shelf and discover all the treasures hidden within its words.
No matter what you do, you cannot escape perspective. It is in what we do and how we think. It is ingrained in our nature and we don’t realize how often it determines how we lead our lives. However, we can attempt to make better decisions by being more aware. Whatever you think you see, stop a moment and rethink it before going forward. Everything is not as it seems. If the grass is truly greener on the other side, at some point, won’t someone be looking at you and thinking your grass looks greener?
Recently, I stood outside of a perfectly lovely house with beautifully manicured lawns and blossoming shrubs and flowers. In its driveway was a shiny minivan and behind that an equally shiny family sedan. From my vantage point, all appears well. I imagine a beautiful life is being had by all of its inhabitants. How could anything go wrong in such a perfect setting? A bit of envy envelops me and I long for the kind of existence that I am witnessing before my eyes.
Yet as I draw closer to the perfect house, little hints start to give away its secrets. The windows have chipped, old paint peeling and settling on the front porch. The perfect rocking chairs out front have a thick, sticky layer of dirt and probably have not seen a sponge or wipe in months. The windows are darkened by grim and dust. Here and there children’s toys are strewn about untouched with spider webs and dirt covering them.
I let myself into the empty house because the lock is broken and no one bothered to fix it. The door creaks alive with movement and when I step in, the scent of abandonment and disrepair flood my nostrils and saddened me instantly. There are hints of childhood lying about, an old highchair, a pacifier, a dirty, broken doll and a deflating basketball. There are a couple of pieces of dusty furniture, but it looks mostly like someone started to decorate, then with a deep sigh of acceptance, gave up the task. I walk around taking in each room, seeing the kitchen with its lovely cabinetry covered in dust and old splattered grease. The refrigerator has its door ajar and its bulb has long ago burned out. There is a deep humming in the background, but I cannot make out what appliance is still on and emitting the house’s only sound. I stand at the foot of the steps leading to the second floor and as I am about to step on that first one, I change my mind. The second floor will just be a continuation of the first. More sadness and more abandonment in every corner will greet me and I prefer not to go there. I turn to go and pull the creaking door behind me. I walk down the crumbling walk to my car. I didn’t notice that before. I sit inside my car a few minutes just staring at this house. My perspective was so off. I thought all manner of wonderful life was being held within its doors. With a heavy heart, I drive away. All the while I wonder how many other times I have felt one way about someone or something, only to find out it was another way that I would never have guessed. How many times have I decided this was how it had to be and never realized my mistake?
How many friends did I not make because I decided before I knew that they were just not right for me to befriend? How many places have I not visited because the news made the decision for me and, seeing one photo, my perspective made me believe what was not really there to begin with?
As I pull into my own driveway, the images of the perfect house still fresh in my mind, I notice our uncared for lawn in need of a good landscaper. I take in the smallness of the house that we will later list as “cozy” in a real estate ad. I step out of my car and walk to my door. When I open it, the warmth of living comes at me all at once. My dog comes rushing toward me, his tail wagging with the signs of joy and contentment. I look and see my cat in the windowsill. She is taking in the view of neighborhood cats that get to roam about outdoors. I call for my husband and he answers me from another room. His voice is strong and comforting. Scents of life and food fill the space around me. I shut the door and lean against it for a moment. I want to take this all in. For all that I think I lack, I soon understand, I have it all. All of the joy in me overwhelms me.
Suddenly I wake up.
In my dream, I saw that abandoned house and knew it well, but still it was all just a dream. All the while, my perspective was off. I believed only good things about that house and its people. I was wrong. I judged that book by its cover and in this case, it was the cover worth reading and not the contents. With a start, I realize that sometimes there is truth in dreams.
I soon realize that I am in my bed in my small, less than perfect, but very happy home. I look at the clock on my nightstand in the dark room. It is 3:15 a.m. Soon my husband will wake up to start his day. With him, thankfully, my final instincts were right. He is a mature, responsible man, more mature than his wife. He is a homeowner and hard worker and a good and devoted husband. Perhaps your perspective of him will be different, but I know the truth. It is all that matters.
He will need to get up soon, but I still have time left before I start my day. I pull the covers tighter around me, the chill of the air-conditioned room making it inviting for sleep. I hear Joe’s soft breathing beside me. Happily, I shut my eyes again, but they are wide open now with a clear understanding of my poor perspective and how susceptible it is and how easily it is tricked by what I see and what people say. They say that seeing is believing. I disagree and now I understand why. With calmness, contentment and a smile, I turn over and go back to sleep.
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