“We see things not as they are, but as we are. Because it is the ‘I’ behind the ‘eye’ that does the seeing.”
― Anaïs Nin
This week’s essay and this podcast episode are about the “I” behind the “eye.”
You, me, any of us — we are always walking out the door carrying our frames of reference with us, our perspectives, our ideas about how the world works, what we have to offer, whether anyone wants to hear from us. So much of what we’re seeing is influenced by what we expect to see, or by the way we perceive what we’re seeing.
I had a rough week, but not as rough as a lot of people. I was reminded that at any time your phone can ring and it can change everything. A single moment on a random Tuesday morning can render most things meaningless, and remind you of what you cannot live without. If you’re smart, the “things” you can’t live without are the people who mean everything to you, and whatever ideals you hold close to your heart — kindness, compassion, the belief that everyone deserves dignity.
It’s been a rough time for kindness and dignity. Every day I see things that hurt my heart and make me wonder what has happened to far too many people, and what will become of the country I love. People I once knew are supporting some of the most cruel and heartless acts of callousness I’ve seen in my lifetime, but want to agree to disagree. The government is being sold off for parts, and the people in power are willing to starve the most vulnerable members of our country for political leverage.
But there are also people working hard to fight back, to say no, to make sure no one will go to sleep hungry. There are people throwing themselves in front of ICE agents, Attorneys General filing lawsuits, good human beings showing up for their neighbors. No matter what happens, we get to decide what it means when we say “I am here” — we get to decide who that “I” is, and what we expect to see from the people around us. What we will tolerate from our friends, and what we are not willing to accept.
We get to look up on a starry night and be amazed, or sit by the ocean and recognize how tiny we are — and how utterly arrogant we’d have to be to think we know how other people should live. We get to be thankful for the chance to visit this pale blue dot of a planet, or ignorant enough to believe we own any of it.
It isn’t ours, we’re just visiting, but we belong to each other. It’s really easy to spot the people who know that. They’re the people trying to help.
