Now that's a perspective

Freeing myself with Secret City and Oprah

When I was a kid in the 80’s, there was a TV show called “Secret City.” Simple premise of a guy dressed in a flight suit standing in front of a drawing board. In each episode, he taught us all how to draw— floating cities. Chains. Perspective. Shadow. I cannot imagine the pitch for that show, how it got approved, or the impossibility of that in today’s media landscape. But I am sure glad I was a kid during Secret City. I have a hunch much of our current treasure trove of video game graphics is from latchkey kids who grew up watching Secret City and eating cereal for dinner, memorizing everything Captain Mark taught. I remember that perspective drawing started with four things: a point of view, a horizon line, a vanishing point, and converging lines. 40 years later, I still think about those shows regularly.

That said, I think about EVERYTHING regularly. All the time.

I have too many tabs open on my computer. Too many inputs. Too many parallel conversations in my mind, addressing hypothetical or unclear situations. And I am far, far too permeable to other people’s stress. When this person has a problem with that person. When I see a misunderstanding, I want to correct it, even if I have nothing to do with it.

Sometimes, I feel there is no way to navigate this world without ping-ponging off of each other and all of our misunderstandings. So many truths. So many converging lines. Sometimes, I start to spin. Or retreat. Either way, my mind starts churning, as does my belly. How is it that other people’s stress makes me feel so thrown?

A genius, clearheaded friend of mine unknowingly gave me a gift the other day. She and I were visiting when I got interrupted a pissy text where someone felt like something they were experiencing somewhere else was unfair (keeping it vague on the page to keep it simple in real life). Anyhow, my friend was sitting with me and simply said, “Now, that’s perspective,” and she then shrugged and carried on with our original conversation as if there was nothing to perseverate about at all.

Nothing. To. Perseverate. About.

Holy shit. I didn’t have to derail. I didn’t have to solve it. Justify. Translate. Explain. Excuse. It wasn’t even about me. I certainly don’t need to involve myself.

It is a fact that it IS a perspective. Other truths or untruths don’t have to be explored. State the only true thing, move on.

Instead of thinking about our pissy friend or trying to explain our perspectives of her perspective via text, we just had lunch.

Later, I was basking in this breakthrough and was reminded of Secret City and the four rules of perspective. A point of view, a horizon line, a vanishing point, and converging lines, and I realized that those basics of illustration are also the basics of relationships. I had just forgotten about the vanishing point. And the point of view.

I kinda feel like I just got a secret decoder ring to close half of my internal open tabs. Click. Click. Click. Close. Close. Close. I feel like another great TV captain Oprah shouting, “A car for YOU and a car for YOU!” only I am shouting, “A perspective for You and a perspective for YOU!”

A smorgasbord of perceives. A flock. A murder. A herd. An avalanche. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to fix them, align them, or hold them.

Now, THAT’S a perspective.

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