Feathered Entertainment

All during the summer drought birds paraded in front of our kitchen window.  Robins splashed as if the bird bath were their personal Saturday night tub. Delicate finches, gold, grey and scarlet, sipped delicately from the edge of the bath. Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal, he in bright crimson, she in grey with just a hint of scarlet, joined the drink fest outside our window. Mourning doves and robins took their turns.
An occasional blue jay swooped in, shushing all other birds from the bath.

No need for entertainment during breakfast, as the constant flurry of feathered activity outside our breakfast window provided endless entertainment.

Now the drought has ended. Water is plentiful and the birds no longer share our mornings. I'm tired of the rain.

What Do You See Looking Over My Shoulder?

Tonight when we went out to walk the dog I spotted a small ginger cat, under the neighbor’s tree across the street.  I mentioned the cat to my husband and by the time he turned to look the cat had moved on.  My husband’s response was, “I didn’t see a cat.” I described the cat to my spouse and he repeated he hadn’t seen a cat. And had I maybe seen the sandy-colored dog, walking on lead with another couple at the entrance to the park. “No,” I said.  “I saw a little ginger cat.”

We walked, talked about other things and my mind wandered to a topic it keeps returning to lately: perspectives. In this political environment, we have lots of different perspectives on everything.  From the far right to the far left and every where in between, people, or at least the noisy ones, seem to be all consumed with their own viewpoint. And have no interest in seeing anything from another person’s perspective.

And taking it to the personal, most obvious difference in perspective, consider how a husband and wife tend to see the world differently. I’m not talking about gender differences, differences in religion or politics, or upbringing. Just the basic, literal differences in viewpoint. 

As my spouse and I went out the door tonight, I saw the cat because I was out the door first.  My husband was holding our dog’s leash, closing the door, making sure it locked. And he when he came out the door he looked somewhere other than across the street where the little cat had caught my eye.

If we had not a long history of believing each other; if I had a history of hallucinations; or if I had seen something my husband had never seen or a totally weird vision, he might have doubted my observation.  

At dinner with my husband over the weekend, we each have a unique dining experience. Not merely because I had the grilled salmon and he ate pasta. I spent dinner looking at my husband, or over his shoulder at the scene behind him. My spouse had dinner with an entirely different view.

We were seated at a window and I found entertainment-watching people walking by. I enjoyed watching what women were wearing for the evening, kids skipping along. A photographer taking photos across the street. I mentioned the photographer to my husband. A car was blocking his view and it required him to watch for a couple minutes before he could see the photographer. But my husband could see, from just the other side of a small table, what the photographer was most likely photographing. Together we had pieced together a story neither of us had figured out on our own.

Dorothy's Idea of the Day: Maybe in the rest of our human encounters we might consider giving the other person a break and assume they may be seeing what they say they are seeing.  Perhaps they just happen to be looking from a different perspective. And maybe together we might see a fuller view of reality.