Perspective
When I close my eyes at night I see my world.
The initial darkness that shut-eye creates is quickly followed by light; as my memories and imagination illuminate what can be seen. It really is my world as no one else can see what I do. And I cannot see anyone else’s world. This simple thought is uncomplicated in nature but to me, it feels beautiful in this simplicity.
To think that we, as humans, have lived experiences so unique that only we can see them, gives us meaning. That only I can see the people I know, the places I’ve been; the elation, and joy, and then the heartbreak and doubt. This makes me, if I dare say, pretty unique. And whilst our DNA makes us genetically different, the thoughts we have and things we see when we close our eyes, make us different in a less replicable sense.
In the room next to me sleeps my son who is my world. For now, I influence his world; what he sees and doesn’t, and what he knows and is protected from. Yet I will never know what he truly sees. There’s a beautiful mystery in this.
Yet does this insular world of just me that I see limit my understanding of the differences amongst us? Or does it give me my own unique perspective?
This is what I ponder on as I sink into my own headspace and then drift to thinking about planet Earth and how we float so vulnerably in the Universe. But this vulnerability also gives Earth meaning.
As Physicist Brian Cox has said, Earth is the perfect planet for us. We have evolved with it. We have had relative stability ecologically, which is rare, in our Universe. Our growth with the planet is symbiotic. Yet our rate of development has accelerated and we are now out of kilter. The intense rainfall; the flooding, and the heatwaves; the barren drought, are increasing in frequency. The damage the human race has caused to our planet is now “unequivocal and indisputable”.
And I fall back to my own space, with my eyes closed. I remember the defined four seasons per year I enjoyed as a child in the 1990s, little more than thirty years ago. My world is not a world my son’s eyes will see…
… for now I see the urgency in quashing our carbon footprint. So I think about what we risk losing.
Our connection with the biological world is weakening. We must remember how connected we all are. From the grazing of sheep on the land, the geese flying South in the skies, to the schools of fish in the ocean — the beauty is in the collective motion. Collective human movement toward human sustainability is the absolutely essential aspiration for this motion to continue, uninterrupted.
We breathe the same air, drink the same water, see the same sun, and look to the stars in wonderment. The stars of today are those that our ancestors saw as they navigated celestially. We have ancestors who placed so much emphasis on future-proofing that they lived to ensure their descendants — seven generations ahead — would have enough resources and relationships to live. Can we all move beyond our own needs to adopt a sustainable way of living more aligned with the Iroquois?
Is the connection we feel to the Earth challenged through our limited perspective? As we know more about our universe through science, do we know less about each other? Is the focus on what’s out there rather than what’s happening down here inversely proportional?
They are questions I do not have the answers to (I wish I did) but with wonder can come conversation, and through conversation, we can find collective solutions.
The moment of creation — the Big Bang - is poignantly referred to by Georges Lemaitre as “a day without a yesterday”. The stark possibility of a day without a tomorrow sooner than should biologically be the case on Earth causes me to open my eyes. And my son cries from his cot. I’m awake now.
At this moment, life has never felt more precious as I comfort my son. His heart beats along with the seven billion others on our planet. But this fairly regular moment is one we will never get back and one that only I will remember! As with all time passed, we can relive them, and through this, share our perspectives.
We all have a voice and a choice. Our voice can bring people into our own world to broaden that of others, and our choices made can future proof our world for future generations to see. So that when they close their eyes, they see the beauty we have been lucky to.
When I next retreat into our own space, closing my eyes, I am OK to accept my significant-insignificant perspective on this perfect planet we call home.
After all, it is Earth’s presence that gives us, individually and collectively, momentary meaning.
