As I was drifting off to sleep last night, thoughts about perception began to crawl through my mind. Surprisingly, this morning I was able to recall what I’d been thinking about…perception, and how it changes over time.
When I was
under the age of eight, I lived in a small community in Idaho, which I know I’ve
mentioned before. During that time, and most likely because I was so young, my
perception of my surroundings was totally different than what I saw when I
returned there in my early twenties.
Our house had a
detached garage. The front yard had a picket fence and there was space to park
a car in front of the fence. Beyond that was the road and on the other side was
a huge field which ended at the creek. These were vast distances to me back
then and that’s how I always remembered that place.
When John and I
returned there on one of our car trips, I was amazed to see there was no space
in front of the fence (which had disappeared) to park a car. The road ran right
in front of my house and all the other houses that were still there. I could practically
stand on the painted line in the middle of the road and spit into the river. My
perception of a place that had remained huge in my head had shrunk by a lot. I
know the canyon sides didn’t move, nor did the canyon floor shrink. Everything
just seemed a lot bigger when I was smaller.
When we first
moved into this house, we had few belongings. When we talked or laughed, there
was an echo. Now, there is no echo and I don’t believe it will return until all
the belongings I’ve/we’ve accumulated are boxed up and taken out. The house
seemed huge then, but with the addition of two sons and all the stuff brought
in, the house became small. Even now, with just me and Kuma here and pretty
much only using one of three bedrooms, it seems small (except when it’s time to
clean).
Visitors, and
even those who haven’t visited but have been told, believe I have a beautiful
garden. That’s their perception. My perception is that it needs a ton of work.
I don’t see just the beauty, but the weeds, spacing, and labor the garden
requires. There are times I allow myself to perceive my garden as beautiful. It’s
usually at the end of the day when I’m relaxing on the deck, surrounded by
greenery and blossoms, with the water feature making a lovely sound.
There are times
when I wish I was able to read minds. I’d love to be able to know what
perceptions family, friends and maybe even complete strangers have of me when
they meet me, get to know me, become a part of my life, or move on out of my
life. The main reason for this is that I often feel that a lot of people do not
see me as I see myself.
My perception
of me is that I’m loving, generous, thoughtful, considerate, helpful, and
always want to, and try to, put my best self forward. Depending on the person
being contemplated, I often don’t believe that is the opinion held by him or
her. That’s not to say I haven’t been, and will most likely be again, a
complete bitch. But, when I’ve been the bitch, I always try to make amends,
apologize, do whatever I need to do to get back in that person’s good graces.
Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m always successful. So, perhaps it’s a good
thing I am unable to read minds.
Finally, there’s
my perception of my current life. I believe I am extremely fortunate to have
the life I now have. Is that the perception others have about my life? Do they believe I’m doing just fine as a
widow? Do they believe I’m completely happy with my lot? Again, I’d like to
know the opinions of some people. Knowing their views probably wouldn’t change
how I feel about my life and how I’m living it, but it would be interesting
nonetheless to know.
Perhaps tonight
when I’m falling asleep, my mind will bring up another topic about which I can
provide my own perceptions. Sweet dreams.