One word... Perspective

Perspective

The dictionary defines perspective as the following:

2

a : the interrelation in which a subject or its parts are mentally viewed ; also : point of view

b : the capacity to view things in their true relations or relative importance

 

It's a word that's come to mind a lot recently, for various and sundry reasons, but I started thinking about it while I was on a work trip with a coworker Saturday.  I was traveling with someone younger than I am and someone who, while pretty well-traveled in the world, is not as long on life experience as I suppose I am at nearly 42-years-old.  This person is also someone that I don't know super well and they didn't know me that well either, in terms of having had a lot of in-depth conversations with them.  Since we were together for a little over 12 hours, we definitely had some time to get to know each other.

 

I found that my traveling companion isn't one for sharing tons of information with the world at large and simply said that she did not understand social media like Facebook and Twitter.  I actually understand that, even though I have a clear addiction to both of those things, as well as blogging, even if I don't blog all that often.  I like to read blogs, catch up with folks on Facebook, see what my favorite celebs are squawking about on Twitter. I enjoy it.  But I can also understand how she "just doesn't get it".  She'd much rather you call her on the phone if you have news to share rather than emailing or posting a status update.  It's all about having a different perspective. 

 

Lately through various interactions with others, I have been reminded once again that how we perceive ourselves is often very different than how others perceive us.  It is well-known among those that, well, know me well! ha!, that I do not like having my picture taken. I really hate it.  When I was younger and skinnier, I had no big problem with it. I wanted my photo taken with the hope that it would turn out well and I'd look all cute and smiley and stuff.  I have a lot of pictures of me from the late 80s that my mother took that I was happy to pose for, but now, I really hate it.  Partly because every photo, even the crappy ones, seem to end up on social media frequently without consent of those who are in the photos and let's face it, if you do not like how you look in a photo, you don't want the world seeing it.  Someone once told me that all the pictures they saw me post of myself were good, so they didn't know why I thought I was not photogenic.  Um...of course I do not post pictures that are not flattering!  What? Am I stupid?  Psssshhhh!  Not about that!  I literally cried over some photos that were put on Facebook of me after my 20th class reunion. They were horrible and I finally got my friend to take them down, but I never could figure out why anyone at all thought those were pictures I would want someone to see.  I might have looked like that truly in that moment, but I didn't want to be reminded. 

 

What fascinates me about photos is that I can think I look horrible in pictures and some people sincerely seem to think those same photos are good ones.  I scratch my head in confusion over that, but we all have a different point of view.  A different perspective.

 

But back to my traveling companion...we had a lot of quality time together on Saturday and talked a good bit about this, that, and the other.  At one point I threw out casually something like, "When I lived in Dubai blah blah blah...." and she had to double-take.  "You lived in Dubai? When was that? I had no idea! You just threw that out so casually!"  Yeah, I did, because I figure most everyone knows that about me, even though that was 12 years ago which seems like, and really is, another lifetime.  I don't want to throw it out like it's this huge thing that makes me special or sounds like I am bragging.  So yeah, I guess I toss it out casually. 

 

I did the same thing - tossed it out pretty casually - during our trip about my experience with the Rotary Foundation's Group Study Exchange program that I was fortunate to participate in 6 years ago.  It's weird even now mentioning it all on my blog because I have to wonder if someone reading this thinks that I'm bragging in some way or trying to make someone feel "less than" because of something I have been able to do.  I never want to do that. 

 

I'm not special because of any of this; I'm just blessed.  I've been fortunate enough to do some amazing things in my life so far and I don't think I've really appreciated it all.  In fact, using the word "amazing" feels really strange.  Those things aren't amazing to some people and they are to others.  Perspective.

 

Saturday got me thinking about all of that.  About how I don't think my life has been that exciting or interesting, but the person I was telling my stories to seemed to disagree.  I won't dare to say that she was impressed, but she was interested.  My telling these things about myself added layers to who I am in her eyes.  I became someone a little different than I had been a few hours before.  And it was nice to have a reminder that yeah, I've been blessed and gotten to do some things that other folks will never get to do (and might not want to!).  It reminded me to stop and be grateful.  My tendency is to downplay that I've ever had anything interesting happen to me, but hey, a trip to the grocery store can be interesting if you look at it the right way!  So says the woman who has on occasion danced around the aisles with the shopping cart.  What can I say? Sometimes you get a snappy tune on that Musak they play.

 

I guess my ramble is really about remembering that everyone sees the same thing in different ways.  That everything is important and can be special.  That maybe how we see things is skewed from reality and that someone else's perspective is much more accurate than our own.  It was kind of cool to try and see things through this other person's eyes as she was hearing stories of my life.  You know, like, hey, maybe my life actually has been pretty interesting at times (whereas now a big night that excites me involves going home, getting into my jammies early and watching The Golden Girls while reading a book and going to be around 9:30pm).

 

So maybe now I have a little better perspective on some things.  And maybe I don't.  Time will tell.  But I'm pretty sure I will never be fond of photos!  Maybe if I start telling people that I think taking my picture will steal a piece of my soul that'll help stop the insanity.  Not mine, clearly, but the insanity of the need for photos of me.  Seriously. There are a lot of pictures of me in the world.  I think the world has enough.