Perspective
Alice was on the floor playing when I decided to lie down beside her. I stayed there while she nursed, tucked behind two chairs, looking out the window. From that angle, I made a mental note to clean the glass.
Then my perspective shifted. Instead of seeing the view outside, I noticed something else: lines. So many lines. The slats on the backs of the chairs, the stitching in the upholstery, the window panes, the bricks framing the window, the boards that make up the porch roof.
It reminded me of the duck-rabbit illusion, and others like it, where the brain flips between competing interpretations of the same image. The lines had always been there, but from this particular vantage point they became impossible to ignore.
Optical illusions are fascinating because they remind us that perception is fallible. The way we see the world is shaped not only by reality itself, but by where we are stand, what we focus on, and what our minds are primed to notice. Even after I stood up, I couldn’t stop seeing lines everywhere. Of course, the lines are only one part of the room. This is important to remember.
Ted often reminds me of this when I am struggling with my own outlook. Though my writing skews positive, I am more naturally prone to pessimistic thinking. Negative thought patterns can cloud my vision, magnifying things until they feel larger than they really are. Like the lines, they are real, but they are not the whole picture.
These thought patterns can run deep, and sustaining an optimistic perspective is an ongoing battle. I have found it helpful to intentionally shift my perspective: practicing gratitude, stepping outside for a walk, listening to music that pulls me out of myself, or talking with people whose way of seeing differs from my own. As frustrating as it can be to hear in the middle of a spiral, there is truth in the reminder that perspective is everything.
Sometimes all it takes is lying down in an unfamiliar spot long enough to notice what you have been seeing, and missing, all along.
