A Matter of Perspective

In the course of a recent phone conversation, I expressed to a good friend that I often feel that I'm not entirely sure about what I'm doing with myself.  Her near-immediate response went something like this: "Well, the way I figure it, you're too beautiful and you're too talented.  That means there are just too many things that you could do to choose from."

Let's just say that's not normally what I think of as the problem, but then I tend to look at things from my own point of view.  My point of view is that I just don't know what I want, and that might not be completely removed from her perspective.  (I'm not saying that I can do anything.  I'll never, for example, be a pilot or an astronaut.  But then those were never really on my mental to-do list, anyway.)

But then that's the tricky thing about perspective: sometimes we need a new one in order to really get a handle on things.

Recently I was thinking about my experience ten years or so ago with the woman who created my prosthetic.  She eventually became a little frustrated with trying to match the color of my functioning eye, because the color changed based on what I was wearing.  The changes were usually subtle, but I didn't know until then that my eye was actually several different colors: blue, green, brown, and even goldish yellow.

Prior to then when anyone asked my eye color, I'd shrug and say "Green" or "Hazel."  

It's a funny thing, because I look in the mirror every morning, which  means I see myself.  I'd seen that eye many, many times but I never registered that there were complexities to its color until someone else told me so.

You'd think that a half-blind girl would need fewer reminders than others about ways of seeing things clearly, but you'd be wrong.  Perspective matters.