Perspective
The world is always the same, but at the same time totally different depending on where you are relative to time and distance. This, my friends, is the very essence of relativity.
I have become in the last 10 years a firm believer that we are in control of our own story, who I am and what I am is determined by my own perspective of my own story.
Look back at your life and determine how you want to describe it, is it fraught with your hardships or is it filled with adventure? Are you the type that talks about glorious moments in time or only about the tragedies? At the end of the day, what does your mind dwell on? What was important to you, what is your story? Who and what you are is determined by that story.
My childhood was filled with very distinct and darkness filled moments, I can point to each and everyone and step into that moments emotions as if it happened yesterday. Some were filled with terror, others darkness and some filled with so many conflicting emotions that my inner soul could only find the smallest darkest corner and hide in silence, in fear that the terror would find me. It took years to be able to coax my soul out and promise her the joys of the world instead of the terror, to learn to dwell in the beauty of the world instead of the hate.
And life goes on…
But, every now and then we are faced with the reminders of the past painful moments in time and you have to deal with the emotions and the moment or you will allow the venom to win.
When I was 17, I was lost in the world. Who I was and what I was going to be was still to be determined. I graduated from High School on night, went to the graduation party at Disneyland and the next morning flew to Japan with my Grandmother.
I was shy, soft spoken, but had a very strong internal core that had been forged by walking through the depths of hell and I was not going to be anyone’s victim. I was not a conformist and I wasn’t going to be manipulated
My grandmother was not a nice person. A sociopath looking to have a Barbie doll she could show off to the world. What happened over the next couple of weeks was hell and manipulation and a true defining of what evil there is in the world hidden behind the façade of someone who is supposed to nurture you and protect you. I was powerless and made to feel worthless. A child lost in a foreign land with the blinders of youth ripped away.
I can look back, I can describe individual moments I can be that lost little child again being told I am worthless, that I am nothing. I can tell you the feeling of being in an airport in a foreign country with no money, alone, my plane 4 hours late, not understanding the language, reading a letter so filled with hate and evil addressed to me and how in moments of pain so intense that it is easier to become nothing.
How in life you make tough choices and decisions where you determine who and what you are going to be and then you become it. It may take you awhile but you become it.
But then you look at perspective. The child then who will always be capture in that moment in time with all those feelings and emotions and the adult now looking back with the eyes and experiences of someone who knows what it takes to live.
My grandmother filled with evil and hate who has caused damage to everyone she has ever touched is now pitiful and lost in the world she created in her head, where her only happiness is to live in a world of hate and therefore she has found her own hell on earth and I pity her.
The adult me looks back at the child and wishes she had made other choices and that she didn’t internalize someone else’s evil as her own, but also knows that pivotal moment allowed me to become who I am and from the perspective of time knows that moment was necessary and that is part of the story of who I am the same way that the positive story of my visit to Mt Fuji with a Japanese family climbing the mountain, making paper art and eating rice on a stick as the perfect blue sky smiled down at me as the mountain rose to its peak covered in snow, how on the drive back we stopped at a stand that made okonomiaki and I laughed in joy at the unusualness of the dish and fell in love with it.
I can remember going with my Japanese friends to their school and sitting in a class of 300 why the instructor spoke in Japanese but something about how he taught was so clear that I was able to understand the meaning behind his lessons, how afterwards we went to pizza hut and I had tuna pizza (yeah, it wasn’t that great) and we stopped at a toilet so my friends could show me the hole in the ground. Joy and laughter and girls being girls.
My favorite moment is an afternoon having tea with an older Japanese woman helped shape me and my life perspectives. We spoke of her life and schooling she introduced me to her father who was a bust made of him where his spirit dwelled and watched over her. How we talked religion and politics and life. How I learned how ignorant I was about so much and how every moment should be about experiencing and learning. How in an afternoon of tea I became so much more than I ever could be if it wasn’t for that single moment in time.
All the same story all related from a different perspective all part of who I am.
