Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts

Perspective


One measure of the conformity and alienation of the times is the conflict between media perspective and individual perspective. News media are hyper-focused on political propaganda and theater. After all, selling laundry detergent has always required getting the attention of the viewer with sex, violence and loud noises.

The perspective for many of us on the ground is quite different from the melodrama on TV, radio and Web. We know that money is tight for most of us. We see the depressed and anxious faces on subways, in supermarkets and on sidewalks. Those of us who live near an affluent city, like Boston, see something else as well. We can walk along Boylston Street in Back Bay and see a micro-sample of the wealthy from all over the U.S. and the world. They stay in the new, expensive hotels. They are shopping in posh shops. They are sipping expensive drinks in chic bars and eateries. They project arrogance and lack of consideration for anyone else. Their perspective of the times is quite different, I am sure. It always has been.

Working out the dissonance between what we are fed by corporate-controlled media and what we are actually experiencing is a modern existential burden. We can fall into the trap of seeing polarity and dichotomy in abstract political terms, such as Liberal and Conservative, as the media portray society to sell their soap and cars. Or, we can strive to reach out to each other in society to learn what we are thinking and perceiving. We can use our own eyes to see what is really happening and openly discuss our experiences with each other.

Perhaps those who have run to the banners of the various Tea Party groups are seeking to do just that in a country which does not readily allow dissent against the media portrayal of society after the Bush era. Perhaps those who ran to the Obama campaign were also seeking a different perspective than the one handed to them by media under the controlling Bush regime. Some have sought this sharing community among vocal atheists, whose life-view is dissent in religiously dominated culture.

The media, once seen as an essential part of civilized society, have flagged in their responsibility to be fair and impartial. They have become tainted by political money, which is the money of corrupting corporate power. They had bowed to George Bush, Dick Cheney and Rupert Murdoch. They are in the habit of bowing and cannot seem to stop themselves.

2010


As this ancient globe rotates its northern hemisphere toward the sun for another segment of its annual orbit, my head spins with concepts of time, aging and unfinished business in my own life. Hurtling through space sounds like fun. But, I realize I am the size of a bacterium on my vehicle. So the thrill must be sought by gazing at the sky with determined attention.

I have felt the earth move under me. It is an unforgettable experience. You'll know it when it happens. My most memorable experience of the ride through this tiny part of The Universe occurred around 2 AM on a January morning. I stood atop a snow-covered dune at Herring Cove, outside Provincetown at the tip of Cape Cod. Above, a clear sky allowed an unobstructed view of The Universe beyond. Twinkling colors amid unfathomable, cold darkness. Breathtaking.

In that moment of space travel, I experienced my oneness with the essence of all that shining energy out there. I experienced the weightlessness of my own energy field, the electric pulses which transmit feeling and thought beyond the confines of cellular walls. The energy of imagination. The flickering comprehension of timelessness.

Since then, I have carried the memory of that experience, locked in consciousness, like spice in a jar. I sprinkle it, when needed, upon my gravity-weighted life. It adds zest, perspective and refreshment. And, as I embark upon my 61st year on this planet, I hope to continue to look up from time to time, so I can enjoy the ride.

Perspective


My key to compassionate behavior is always realizing my own perspective is uniquely mine.

My upbringing, my genetics, my body chemistry, my body architecture, my neural wiring...these are what make me who I am and how I perceive reality. Even if I had an identical twin, my twin would have different perspective from me, because my twin would be seeing through his own eyes and hearing with his own ears and feeling with his own touch. His experiences would be different from mine. That would shape a different perspective, no matter how much we would share in common.

In stressful situations, I have to fall back on my practice to take a deep breath and find this key to compassion. And, as I age, life becomes more stressful on a basic biological level. Practice offsets much of the biological stress. Yet, in my interactions with those who are not committed to practice of any kind, I must rely on compassion to avoid conflict and promote peaceful coexistence.

Trying to leave my own perspective for even an instant is very hard at times. Doing this regularly by consciously trying to learn the perspective of others is another building block of my practice. This does not necessitate accepting the values of others. It simply entails listening and trying to understand.

The most compassionate behavior toward some people I encounter, after I listen and observe them to understand their perspective, is to walk away from them without any interaction whatsoever. Occasionally, I realize that the most compassionate behavior is to simply continue to listen, to offer a smile, a comment or some form of concrete assistance. Sometimes, the compassionate choice is to accept the concern and help of another.

When I center my own perspective on compassion, while trying always to be mindful of the realities of the moment, I find that peace and harmony, both internal and external, are quite achievable with work and persistence.

Reality


This is the age of the virtual everything. I believe most people are living in their minds to the movie themes of their iPods.

There are 16 rain-saturated inches of new snow outside my house. I do not own a snow blower. I shovel. Lifting scores of shovelfuls of wet snow is real. Walking to the train or the market, which are only one mile away, in the cold and the muck to avoid using my buried car is real. Being wet to the skin with rain and exertion is real.

I focus and cherish these realities and their accompanying difficulties as part of my practice. It is the practice of being human, a small, mortal animal on a large planet in a larger Universe, subject to its actual elements and their effects.

Perspective


I am a scrap of paper on the wind of the Universe.

Imprinted deep in my fiber is a message, a truth.

That truth can move any heart or mind, set in stone.

Perspective

My life is a single bubble in the vast ocean of the Universe.