Eye of the Beholder

We can all look at the same thing but see something different...or see nothing at all.

Eye of the Beholder

Back in the day, my woodworking business had two main areas of concentration, architectural woodworking (schools, libraries, offices, etc), and woodie station wagons. The first is fairly normal and to be expected, the latter is unusual and not expected.

To me, and to many people, a woodie is one of the most beautiful forms of woodworking there is. I can say it is one of the most complex pieces of woodworking there is. Basically, I had to make an elaborate piece of furniture that could survive being rained on and be driven down a highway at sixty mph.

But this essay is not about that. This is about what we see, and what we fail to see. Our office was just within the shop such that anyone coming into the office had to initially walk into the shop. Completed woodies awaiting pickup were placed just outside the office. Anyone coming into the office would have to walk past it. Those people who routinely came into the shop knew to expect a woodie.

What made me wonder, was the people coming in for the first time and who were not aware that we fabricated woodie bodies. Some would stop in their tracks and marvel at what they saw. They would ask questions, and we’d have a conversation. But others walked right past the woodies, not even noticing.

Nobody was ambivalent, really. Either they went gaga over the woodies, or they didn’t even notice. How can it be both? This is a rhetorical question. Why do some of us viscerally react to some things that others don’t even see? I have to wonder at what things I have rhetorically walked past, and never even noticed.

The simple, not quite satisfying answer is that we are all different. Anyone who had any kind of an old car that they messed with in their teen years was likely to notice the woodies. Anyone who had done woodworking, either as a hobby or professionally, was likely to notice. For any number of other associated reasons, a person might notice the woodie and marvel at it. But other people, not so much.

I’m an individualist. I think what I want, and you can think what you want. I live my life, you live your life. I know that I don’t see what some others see. For instance, why are the poor poor? What should be done about it? I would say that we should make sure that opportunities are available, and then each person make their own choices and expend their own effort. That works, from my viewpoint. Others see no solutions that don’t include socialist efforts to lift all in the same boat. I find that boat confining. If it came to it, I’d rather swim.

None of this says that I am right. It only says that I fail to see, will walk right past, issues that others see as essential.

I occasionally reference the fable of the blind men and the elephant. The blind men cannot individually comprehend the elephant. Their only hope of comprehending is to consult with each other and compare notes. If they work at it, they might all comprehend the elephant. If they argue over whose vision is the correct one, they will be perpetually ignorant.

I made woodies because I love the cars and I love working on them. But to others, they are a pointless effort, not practical for driving to and from work, and in need of far more maintenance than today’s cars. So, why expend the effort? Why even bother to notice, since they hold no relevance to that observer?

We’re both right, of course. If there is any such thing as “The Truth,” it lies collectively in all of us, not in any particular segment or ideology. My idea of hell is when we are all channeled in the same direction, with no options. It matters not what that direction is or how comfortable. That’s not the point. “The Truth” can not be found by marching in lockstep. “The Truth” is all of us considering every possibility. And then comparing notes and learning from each other instead of confronting each other.

As I was writing this, a Paul Simon song came to mind. The song is “America”. I joke that some of the songs I mention have only a little to do with what I’m talking about. But I like them, so I list them. But I think “America” gets at the essence of what I’m saying. “We’ve all come to look for America”, but we find it in different ways.

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