Perspective

I had the extreme pleasure of having brunch with friends I had lost touch with for twenty years. You may wonder what I mean by “friend” if I lost touch for twenty years, but they were dear friends from high school. Two graduated two years ahead of me, the third, one year a head of me. That was the beginning of the disconnect.

They went off on their fabulous adventures to college and beyond, finding their place in world while I did the same. That time of life is so immensely transitional. In many cultures around the world there are ceremonies and rituals that help guide adolescents into adulthood, into their place in society. Certainly those cultures are based on smaller, tightly-knit communities that are greatly involved with development of every individual through every phase of life. I think those cultures were onto something really important.

In my transition I lost touch with my adolescent friends. Maybe it needed to happen as part of my journey – leaving behind that which defined me and creating my own definition. Now twenty years later it was a joy to sit down with them, meet their families, recognize just how wonderful we were then and how much we’ve grown since then.

Perhaps what surprised me the most was what incredible partners they had found for their own journeys. Their spouses are people whose friendship I would treasure. Why would I think it would be otherwise? I don’t think I did think it would be otherwise. I just didn’t know in which directions they had grown.

Interestingly I undertook one of those rites of passage earlier this spring – a vision quest. The centerpiece, but certainly not the sole meaning, is a four day, fasting solo in the wilderness. It’s designed to strip away external definitions and allow self-knowledge to emerge with clarity. The solo is contained within a time of preparation (both alone and as a group) and incorporation (which seems to last a very long time as the intense experience sinks in and mixes within you).

I was discussing some of this with my new-old friends and the question was posed: how much of your interpretation of your experiences is colored by the preparation you received? The weather played a significant role in my quest and feels to be a critical piece for me to understand. The four-directions teachings of North American tribes cast my experiences with the weather in one light. The astrological interpretation sheds another light. Meteorology, the language I know better than the others, adds yet another light.

And that, I believe, is the key. Any one of these perspectives, on their own, allows a particular view and understanding of my experiences. Each offers something unique and profound to my interpretation. Together these various perspectives, various lights, create a much richer, dynamic understanding.

But fundamentally, it's my story to write. I can tell the story as a victim or as a hero. I can find great meaning or great nothing. I can walk away disappointed or inspired. I can choose only one viewpoint, one light from which to tell my story or allow as many as I can find to weave themselves all into something more complex.

I suppose I need to consider what feelings I want to carry with me from my story, from my life. What perspectives do I want to accept or reject as I try to understand the experiences of my life and tell my story in a way that is most satisfying to me? I'm looking for the story that brings me pleasure, challenge, love, expansiveness, connection, hope and inspiration. And I'll take any perspective that brings more of that.