for an open mind


I went to a friend’s party last weekend, and as I sat with a group of people I didn’t know and had little interests in common with, I was struck with the thought of how big our world seems to be in our heads, but how small it is in the scheme of things, especially in the eyes of an “outsider.”

We expect others to “match” our conception of things, that much of compatibility, whether we are brave enough to admit to it or not, is really about how much a person “fits” into our small world. In truth, it is our egocentric tendencies as humans at their best. As I mulled it over, I realized how much we end up missing when we constantly gauge people by how they match us, and only converse or connect to those who are like us. It’s rigid, and confining.

Instead, what if we opened our hearts and minds, and attempted to truly get to know the other person and acquaint ourselves with their world? What if we all did this? Perhaps we would have more friends, or be more inspired, or discover the beauty and diversity of the human experience in a fuller manner. Confines only leave us feeling unsatisfied and empty and longing for more… yet we cannot discern “the more” without venturing out of our tiny space and considering possibilities outside our knowledge and experiences.

There’s so much beauty out there, and we end up missing most of it by expecting the world to be like we want it to be. There’s something to say about sticking to what you know, but I’d dare argue that there is also something to open-mindedness and broadening yourself to outside your comfort zone.

life is


The way I see it, we are all looking at an enormously large statue, one that even if we were to strain our necks, we cannot see in its entirety. All of us are scattered around it, staring at, above, and below, attempting to comprehend the towering statue, to figure it out, discern its meaning, have our eyes touch every single intricacy and complexity, every twist and knot. Yet we will certainly fail at the task in completeness, because the statue is far too large to consume. From the position we stand, at the ground and angle we are viewing, we cannot see everything. It is not physically possible, not in our means to. In addition, we all experience the statue differently, hold a cacophony of emotions, feelings, and thoughts toward it. It is impossible to find an “ultimate meaning” of a statue that we can all agree on, that none of us had a hand in creating. As it is with any piece of art, the Artist has his or her intent in creating it, whether we know or understand it, and as we encounter it, we subjectively experience it in our individual being.

We can only experience the statue, see it, feel it, from where we stand. Perhaps, one can argue, that is the point.

The statue is, of course, life. Each of us are at a different position, have a particular view of the statue, yet sometimes we forget, sometimes we think that all we see is all there is to it. Although it certainly is not. There is so much to the statue that is out of our sights, beyond our experiences, beyond our capacity to experience from where we stand. That is why it is a wonderful gift to me when I hear people and their perspectives. Part of my life’s motto is to live with an open mind, because to hear another’s view provides me with the unique experience of seeing a part of the statue I have not seen. It is so easy to get stuck in our bubble of thinking, so to open our mind to various perspectives bursts the bubble, tears down the walls that keep us stuck, stretches our thinking to touch new thoughts, new heights.

That is why I would never criticize a person simply for having a different perspective than mine, for their perspective yields a piece of a statue that many others cannot see, just as mine does also. Each person’s perspective is valuable.

It is also a comforting fact to discover there are others near you, when you realize someone sees the same twist in the statue that you do… when all this time you thought you were isolated and alone in your view. Finally, there is a companion to join you in your experience of the statue. You are not so weird after all. And what a validating feeling that is!

From my perspective, I find it a futile task to create an all-encompassing definition of life when we have not, and cannot, see the whole statue. There will be an infinite number of contradictions to whatever we come up with, because the statue is just that immense, that complex. We only know what we see. Life appears to be what you perceive, and what you make of those perceptions. Yet, I find it a valuable task indeed to open your ears and broaden your mind to others’ experiences and definitions. It helps to tear down those dangerous, narrowing assumptions that could drown us: that it is hopeless, there is nothing more to life than your four walls, things will never change, you will never change. We always have a choice, albeit a difficult one. It is hard to willingly stretch your mind, heart, and soul to reach past where you have stood for so many years. But I will believe to my death that that is the way we learn, mature and grow.

‘Tis life, I suppose. At least from where I stand.