Tag Archives: observation

Intersections revisited

There are some things I write here on Daily-Ink, and when I read my own writing a month or two later I barely remember or even recognize my own writing. I wrote that?

But there are other things I write and I remember. There is one post in particular that I think about regularly. Tonight on (another) walk with my wife we reached an intersection where we were crossing the road. Perpendicular to us, on the cross street’s sidewalk, were two men who reached the intersection exactly the same time as us. We all slowed down to let each other pass. They were the only other people walking anywhere near us and sure enough we intersected at the one place our paths crossed.

Despite thinking about the following post regularly, I hadn’t actually re-read it in a couple years. I didn’t consciously remember that it also started with a walk with my wife, but what I do remember, what I reflect on when it regularly happens, is that we are somehow drawn to these intersections.

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October 27, 2021

Human intersections

Last night I went for a walk with my wife. Minutes from home we were walking on a quiet, empty street that doesn’t have sidewalks. Then a car approached from in front of us. We started to move to the side of the road, and noticed car lights coming from behind us as well. The cars crossed paths right where we were on the edge of the road, having had to slow down to cautiously make space for us and the other car. Then we continued our walk with no cars approaching us from either way until we arrived home.

I find it fascinating how we seem to be drawn, pulled to intersecting points with other people. For the amount of times someone walks by our house, or the front of my school when I arrive before any students, I’m amazed how often I have to wait for a pedestrian to walk cross the driveway before I can make the turn… amazed that as I wait, I can see no other pedestrians for an entire block.

In a car you are turning left and must wait for the one car coming the other way to pass.

At a shopping plaza you go to open a door to a store and the one other person in sight is coming through the door the other way.

On a path in a park, you are walking faster than the people in front of you, and as you go to pass them, other people are approaching from the other way crowding the path at your takeover point.

I think we find ourselves at these intersections at a rate that is greater than probability would suggest… The likelihood of such intersections happen far more than just by chance. Like magnets passing one another, there is a pull towards others, an unseen force that draws us into each other’s path. It isn’t a case of bad timing, it’s not that we are unlucky and forced to slow down, wait, or squeeze by someone else. It’s actually just the opposite. We naturally seek each other out on some unconscious level. We are drawn to human intersections.

Introvert at a party

Sometimes the introvert in me really comes out… or rather shuts me in. In a social setting I can find comfort in a one-on-one conversation, but feel totally removed from a larger group discussion. It’s like a switch goes off and suddenly I’m no longer a participant but a distant observer of everything happening around me.

I don’t feel isolated or secluded. It’s not like I’m trapped somewhere I don’t want to be. I’m not suddenly feeling left out or alone, I am simply not fully engaged in what everyone else is doing. It’s not sad, it’s a comfortable place that is just one step removed from the present, or rather presence of everyone else.

A joke is told, I hear the laughter, I smile. It’s like I’m watching a sitcom, and I’m not part of the laugh track. I get and appreciate the humour, it just doesn’t hit me like something that would make me laugh. If someone asks me a question, I’m right there to respond, but it feels like it is filtered through a vail from the outside, remote yet not far away. I answer politely but I’m not fully engaged.

This is not a place I choose to go. It doesn’t happen all the time. It’s just a consequence of being an introvert. A loud and busy gathering is not a comfortable place, so I recede to a place inside myself that is more comfortable and I engage with the outside world from there.

Still happy to be with people I like. Not fully disengaged, but also not fully present. A slightly distant observer rather than full participant. An introvert in an extraverted world.

Sensing our world

I’m going to need glasses and hearing aids in the next few years. I already use small magnification readers when text is small or my eyes are fatigued, and I know that my hearing has diminished. One example of my hearing issue is that when we shut down our gas fireplace it beeps, but I don’t hear the beep. That sound is no longer in the range that I can hear. I only know it’s there because my wife and daughter mentioned it.

It’s only in relatively recent history that we’ve had access to technologies that allow us to enhance our senses when they fall below ‘normal’ capabilities. Before that we just lived less vivid lives as our senses worsened.

Having my family ask me ‘Can’t you hear that?’ and listening to nothing but their voices, knowing full well that I’m missing something is a little disconcerting. How are they getting to experience a sound that is outside the range of my capability? But the reality is that there are sounds they too can’t hear, which dogs and other animals can.

This makes me wonder what our world really looks and sounds like? What are we incapable of sensing and hearing, and how does that alter our reality? And for that matter, how do we perceive the world differently not just from other species but from each other? We can agree that certain colours on a spectrum are red, green, and blue, but is my experience of blue the same as yours? If it was, wouldn’t we all have the same favourite colour?

A few years back I had an eye condition that affected my vision at the focal point of my left eye. Later, I accidentally discovered that this eye doesn’t distinguish the difference between some blues and greens, but only at the focal point. I learned this playing a silly bubble bursting game on my phone. Without playing this game I might not have realized the limitations of my vision, and would have been ignorantly blind to my limited vision.

That’s the thought of of the day for me, how are we ignorantly blind to the limitations of our senses? What are we missing that our world tries to share with us? How will technology aid us in seeing what can’t be seen? Hearing what we can’t usually hear? That is to say, that we haven’t already accomplished in detecting? Our houses have carbon monoxide detectors, and we have sensors for radiation that are used in different occupations. We have sensors that detect infrared light, and accurately measure temperature and humidity. This kind of sense enhancing technology isn’t new.

Still, while we have sensors and tools to detect these things for us, we can’t fully experience aspects of our world that are present but undetectable by our senses. It makes me wonder just how much of our world we don’t experience? We are blessed with amazing senses and we have some incredible tools to help us observe the world in greater detail, but what are we missing? What are we ignorantly (or should I say blissfully) unaware of?

We are all blind

The blind men and an elephant

A group of blind men heard that a strange animal, called an elephant, had been brought to the town, but none of them were aware of its shape and form. Out of curiosity, they said: “We must inspect and know it by touch, of which we are capable”. So, they sought it out, and when they found it they groped about it. The first person, whose hand landed on the trunk, said, “This being is like a thick snake”. For another one whose hand reached its ear, it seemed like a kind of fan. As for another person, whose hand was upon its leg, said, the elephant is a pillar like a tree-trunk. The blind man who placed his hand upon its side said the elephant, “is a wall”. Another who felt its tail, described it as a rope. The last felt its tusk, stating the elephant is that which is hard, smooth and like a spear.

How different is my sight compared to a colour blind or fully blind person?

My wife hears notes one off of perfect pitch, and can name notes played on a piano without a reference note. I have a hard time determining if a note is higher or lower than a reference note. My daughters can hear sounds at frequencies that I can’t, and at decibels lower than I can.

Some people are intuitive about other’s feelings. Some people can feel when it’s going to rain, others can smell rain coming. Still others can list ingredients in a dish simply by smell. Our senses vary considerably, as do our observations of events.

In a way we are all blind, or at least we are limited by our senses. We don’t observe the world objectively. Instead we hold tremendous subjective bias. Our upbringing, our beliefs, our politics, our limited senses obscure the world.

We touch the world like the blind men touch the elephant. Partially, and with tremendous bias.

Try to convince someone that is depressed that they only need to look at life though rose coloured glasses. Convince someone with devout faith that there is no omnipotent God. Convince a conspiracy believing flat earth evangelist that the world is round. Try to convince anyone who sees the world completely differently than you of anything you hold on to steadfastly, when they see the world very differently, and you’ll appreciate how blind we really are.

It’s no wonder that so many people fight over ‘subjective truth’ because they think it’s ‘objective Truth’. Try to convince the tail-holding blind man that an elephant is more like a pillar than like rope. You probably won’t. In his experience, he is not wrong. The pillar and the rope perspectives are both true to the observer.

Our own subjectivity makes it easier to see where others are blind, much harder to see where we ourselves are blind. We are blind to our own blindness.

How different is a life where we touch a single part of an elephant and call that part an elephant compared to a life where we take in all the other perspectives and create a composite view… while being careful not to listen to the blind man standing in elephant dung because his view is simply not as valid. We need to be open to other views, while also being careful of those that throw dung around. Just because we are all blind, doesn’t mean that all of our views are equal.

Copernicus, Newton, Einstein; These men saw more of the elephant than most. They convinced others who could not see like they could see. But in our day-to-day lives we do not meet such people. We don’t discuss such deep topics. We mull around in the dark, sharing small parts of the elephant we are aware of, and believing we see the entire animal. Blind to our own blindness.

Human intersections

Last night I went for a walk with my wife. Minutes from home we were walking on a quiet, empty street that doesn’t have sidewalks. Then a car approached from in front of us. We started to move to the side of the road, and noticed car lights coming from behind us as well. The cars crossed paths right where we were on the edge of the road, having had to slow down to cautiously make space for us and the other car. Then we continued our walk with no cars approaching us from either way until we arrived home.

I find it fascinating how we seem to be drawn, pulled to intersecting points with other people. For the amount of times someone walks by our house, or the front of my school when I arrive before any students, I’m amazed how often I have to wait for a pedestrian to walk cross the driveway before I can make the turn… amazed that as I wait, I can see no other pedestrians for an entire block.

In a car you are turning left and must wait for the one car coming the other way to pass.

At a shopping plaza you go to open a door to a store and the one other person in sight is coming through the door the other way.

On a path in a park, you are walking faster than the people in front of you, and as you go to pass them, other people are approaching from the other way crowding the path at your takeover point.

I think we find ourselves at these intersections at a rate that is greater than probability would suggest… The likelihood of such intersections happen far more than just by chance. Like magnets passing one another, there is a pull towards others, an unseen force that draws us into each other’s path. It isn’t a case of bad timing, it’s not that we are unlucky and forced to slow down, wait, or squeeze by someone else. It’s actually just the opposite. We naturally seek each other out on some unconscious level. We are drawn to human intersections.

Colourblind discovery

A few years ago I developed Central Serous Retinopathy in my left eye. It sounds scarier than it is. Basically, a small bubble forms on the back of your retina, blurring your vision but only at your focal point. This is extremely annoying. Imagine trying to read something and the only word that is blurry is the one you are trying to read.

It can be stress and insomnia related, among other things, and happens mostly to males 40+. It is also something that goes away over time and seldom needs treatment. For me it was extra annoying because I’m left I dominant, and that’s the eye that wants to focus on things close to your nose… like a computer screen. Eventually it went away, but my focus is definitely a little softer for things like reading, and when I’m fatigued, I find it hard to read, and will put on readers with a low, but necessary magnification.

Yesterday I was out in the sun for a while and had suntan lotion on my face. Later, I was lying on the couch, playing a mindless pop-the-bubbles game in my phone that I sometimes play. I like it because a round is really short and I don’t find myself wanting to play too long… a quick break that doesn’t become a large distraction. I’ll play it when my wife is watching the news. I can listen in and don’t need to watch him the screen.

So I was playing this game where I have to have to shoot a coloured bubble and hit at least 2 more of the same colour to pop them. I think I rubbed my right eye and some suntan lotion got in it. It was streaming tears a bit and I didn’t realize I was only looking through my left eye. Then I pointed a blue bubble at two green and one blue one, thinking they were all blue and that they would all pop. They didn’t. I thought there was a glitch in the game.

I looked again with both eyes and suddenly I saw the green. That’s when I realized that I’m blue/green colourblind, but only in the focal area of my left eye. I shut my right eye and any green that I looked at became just a slightly lighter version of the blue, but only where I focused, the other green dots in my peripheral vision stayed green.

I found this test online, and sure enough, I can’t read it with my left eye, but the blue numbers don’t completely disappear, parts of it fade out depending on where I look.

I wonder if this is something I’ve had my whole life or if it was brought on by the Central Serous Retinopathy? A Google search hasn’t led me to believe these are connected yet they both have affected only the focal area of my left eye. Also, this seems like a weird thing to not know about myself for 53 years of my life.

It is a weird experience shifting my focal point and watching coloured shapes morph or disappear right before my eye. It makes me think about all the things we go through life not seeing, not being aware of. We don’t see the same ranges of colour as other animals. What do we miss that our eyes aren’t capable of seeing… and what are we missing simply because we are oblivious?

Limited shared reality

Have you ever thought of your bandwidth of sensory observation?

We can’t hear a dog whistle, but the sound is still there when someone blows one. We can’t see ultraviolet light. Our fingers can detect the location of a touch that are backs can not. Some people love cilantro while others think it tastes like soap. Dogs and other animals can smell things we can’t. Some of us see colours that others can not.

We are all, in our own way, like radio receivers, who can hear certain stations and not others. As we get older, our bandwidth decreases in what we are able to hear. But in keeping with the metaphor, that doesn’t mean the radio stations aren’t still playing.

We have limiting and limited senses with which to observe our world. We are only capable of witnessing and observing a narrow set of frequencies, because our receivers are limited… and imperfect.

Even within the scope of what we can mutually observe our shared reality isn’t fully shared. We see, hear, feel, taste, and smell things differently. Our cultures and upbringing influence this as well… some cultures can’t see/distinguish certain colours, some can’t pronounce certain sounds, some have vastly different tastes.

Our shared reality isn’t always as shared as we think. This invites conflict and miss understanding. It also invites the joy of seeing things from another perspective, and learning to appreciate our, and other’s, understanding of our world.

Let’s help each other expand our views of our shared reality. Let’s celebrate the difference and find joy in creating mutually appreciated, shared events.

Wind in the canopy

The next time you are out among a cathedral of trees look up at the canopy above you. Watch how the wind moves among the tall trees, pushing on some while others stay still. Height, girth, distribution of branches, and location relevant to other trees, all factor into how the wind plays with them and how they sway.

It’s hypnotic.