Growing up I soon realized we children generally saw things in the same way our parents saw things.
Or as maybe grandparents or merely those in the community with far more years under their belt than we.
Some of my more memorable models for viewing life were often seated around a pot-belly stove at Carr’s store. Or beside a sassafras fire with hounds running twixt the hills and hollers.
On a gravel bar while fish were cleaned and cooked. On a stump or bed of a truck during water and meal breaks on days cordwood was cut and hauled or hay bales removed from a field.
Later, my examples came in the form of teachers in classrooms. Journalists on TV. And magazines. There were The Red Ranger and The Hunter’s Horn. When not reading about running hounds, we had Full Cry to remind us of the wholesome sport of coon-hunting.
I still remember Mr. Orchard rewarding our good behavior with a chapter from William French’s Wrestling the Wilderness. There were the many issues of Outdoor Life along with Field & Stream in Mr. Powell’s barber shop in Eminence.
There was Waylon Powell himself and visitors like Art Cook and the Smith boys. We, myself and a few close friends, viewed life as they had viewed life. As woodsmen and hunters. Workers and want-to-be rascals.
Somewhere between childhood and becoming a man, I began to realize that not everyone thought as we. Or I. I had the bravado and direction of those around me to reassure me that I, of course, was right. We, were right.
Even when viewing strange situations in even stranger lands, as I became friends with our school and later town libraries — I saw diverse reactions based simply on different situations. I was sure that the heroes and heroines of these tales thought and acted as I whenever possible.
That was years ago. Several college degrees and the myriad rewrites of a doctoral thesis taught me that a “right way of seeing things” is a very elusive beast.
The opportunities to meet a variety of people, even if briefly, has led to an increased awareness of my ignorance.
Even an old friend recently reminded me “there was a lot” I did not know. Sadly, very true. Not only facts. Traditions. Processes.
No, there were many ways to examine those same facts. Consider those same traditions. Attempt similar processes. No longer can I retreat to the security of knowing the “…right way…”
Even when studying His word, I find myself exploring the context of a culture alien to me and struggle to feel secure that I am walking His path as He has intended.
I read some time back that “true wisdom comes from knowing what we don’t know.” Not sure. I mean, seems like when I know what I don’t know I can go about finding it out. And then if I know something, now am I less wise?
I believe one aspect of wisdom comes from when we finally learn to see “through other’s eyes.” When, even if we don’t agree with their views, we can at least understand how they were found. By what lens they were acquired.
I saw a rainbow the other evening. Saw where it hit the ground. Saw the hills and trees behind the band of colors. Saw His creation through the symbol of His promise.
Pretty good perspective to this world. His world. Our home. Made me smile. That’s the kind of lens I plan to be looking through.
(Rick Mansfield can be reached at emansfield2004@yahoo.com.)
