Panther Country

Point of view is one of the most interesting aspects of critical thinking to me. The ability to look at something or some situation through the eyes of someone else is not an easy thing to do. Simply being able to step away from a situation and look at it through a different lens is essential in good decision making, yet how rarely do we take the time to do so, getting wrapped up and fixated on our own beliefs.

Point of view is also interesting when we reflect on our own experiences. I look back on the journey I have taken and realize there are many ways to interpret where I’ve been, the decisions I’ve made, and how I have arrived where I am. For example, I have always thought of myself as someone who makes a lot of metaphorical wrong turns. I am notorious in real life for getting lost. I have come to accept the fact that no matter how hard I try to orient myself to my surroundings I will always make at least one wrong turn. My wife says I’m getting better, but the amount of effort I must put in to such a mundane activity often wears me out. Nevertheless, I have given a lot of thought to this convergence of metaphor and reality and I have tried to reconcile and understand this curious phenomenon about my life.

Here is what I have concluded.  I have been been…metaphorically speaking…lost. Now before you shudder or tsk tsk or shake your head, remember that this is a piece about point of view, and I’m not lost in the sense of despairing and unable to reach my goal. I think of my being lost more this way: the end of the journey is the same for all of us, and each of us arrives at that destination in different ways. I will get there, same as everyone, but it won’t be the easiest, most traditional, or even the best way of arriving, if there is such a thing.

Ok, that’s broad and general enough to make everyone feel good, so let me clarify, refine, and elaborate: the various paths through life are not exactly prescribed, but most people assume that there are tried and true paths, the traditional roads to the end, and most of us are directed, prodded, and pushed along those particular paths.  Some of us have more signposts pointing in the “right” direction than others: parents, teachers, counselors, elders, relatives, etc. Many of them have trudged the path, they know the way, and they encourage that we not stray or deviate down unknown roads.

You probably think I’m now going to tell you “I have taken the road less traveled and that has made all the difference.” Not exactly. I think, instead, that I have taken many roads less traveled by mistake. I don’t regret those turns, and I’m actually pretty sure that what was once accidental in my life has now become a pattern of almost deliberate and intentional “lostness.” I haven’t quite developed an instinct as most do for the right road, but at this point in my life I am pretty sure that I am deliberately choosing the wrong paths, but I’m ok with that. I’m not an adventure seeker or an iconoclast who has to do it his own way. I’m just very suspicious and not convinced that the path others have taken is always the path I want to be on. That may sound iconoclastic and individual, but it comes with a lot of hand-wringing and self doubt–not exactly the traits of a trail-blazer.

This past Saturday my mom’s sister and roommate died. I was closer to my aunt than to my own mother because she was one of those signposts in my life. My parents were not very good at pointing the way in life. They were not even very good role models, but they were the only parents I had. So many of the choices and decisions I made growing up were mostly guesses, based on the logic and reasoning of a fairly solitary adolescent mind, and often they were not the same choices and decisions my friends were making. I had a lot of “bad ” friends growing up in the city of Detroit, so my going my own way kept me out of trouble. But I also didn’t trust the decisions my “good” friends made because they didn’t seem right for me. I would choose a path, realize it was “different,” experience a brief moment of self-loathing and regret, and then gradually embrace the decision and see what the path had to offer.

My aunt wanted desperately for me to be rich and successful. Although not Jewish herself, she married a Jewish man and became a stereotypical Jewish mother to her only son, my cousin, and to me, her quasi-adopted son. My cousin went through normal rebellions but eventually ended up on the right path, whereas I was deliberately seeking out my aunt’s advice and then deliberately choosing a different way. I loved my aunt dearly and she provided everything I felt my own parents were supposed to give but couldn’t. Yet, some strange urge or desire prompted me in different directions. Despite the disappointments, she never stopped loving me and she never hesitated to show me the right path to take.

My point of view tells me I have something of the contrarian deeply embedded in my soul. My mother’s point of view is that I’m stubborn and enjoy being different just to make people mad. My aunt’s point of view was that I had some passion she couldn’t identify or understand and it was her job to try to protect me from it because it would just lead to unhappiness. Well, rest in peace Aunt Elsie and please understand that I am still wandering, still taking the wrong paths, and still enjoying every minute of the journey. It’s different but it’s not bad and it doesn’t lead to unhappiness. It really is ok, but thank you for always pointing the way.