Perspective

The coffee I made this morning isn't stellar. I think it's been sitting in my cupboard too long. Opened coffee isn't really even supposed to be stored in a cupboard, right? It should probably be in the fridge. Whatever the case, the cup of joe I'm sipping is mediocre at best. Yet, it still made me want to write a paragraph or two before readying for church.

I was thinking back on my NYC trip a few weeks ago and was reminded of one of the funniest happenings during our time there. Traveling with middle schoolers is both entertaining and stressful. Our tour group consisted of students from Wyoming, Texas, and Colorado. For some of these students, the atmosphere of NYC produced massive culture shock. So, the first evening of herding our large group through the streets of Manhattan was like throwing a bunny into the midst of a horse race and expecting it to keep up. We formed a massive tumor blocking the flowing arteries on the streets. Attempting to board the Subway was crazy too...it took a few times for some to realize that you have to push your way on or you may not make it before the doors shut.

So, there we were, fresh off the airplane, testing our legs on the Manhattan ground, trying to resist the temptation of constantly looking around at everything but the path in front. Yes, we were typical tourists taking pictures of everything mundane just because it was in New York. A nice older woman noticed our group and struck up a conversation with one of our Wyoming students as we waited at a light. She asked him where he was from. He answered, "Rawlins."

I bit my lip to keep from smiling too broad or even laughing. The blank look on the woman's face said it all. She faltered a bit. "Rawlins?" The light bulb then flickered on in the Wyoming boy's mind. "Rawlins, Wyoming."

In a matter of minutes, the needed clarification was there. But, it made me laugh inside. We had been in NYC for just a few hours. The boy's perspective hadn't shifted yet. I'm sure where he's from and where he usually travels, answering simply "Rawlins" is sufficient. He had not realized at first that we were in New York and he'd be lucky if people knew where Cheyenne (WY) was let alone Rawlins, a little town in the middle of nowhere.

It made me think of perspective and life experience and how those aspects so affect our ability to communicate and understand one another. It also made me appreciate anew how traveling adds incredible dimension to perspective. I'm just like that Wyoming boy sometimes with my perspective. But, just like he quickly adjusted, I hope I never lose that ability to adjust my perspective when it is necessary. That's a good skill to have.

Contrast

As I roamed the streets and halls of New York City's most renowned sites last week, my mind was constantly gulping, trying to swallow the massive amount of stimuli being shoved my way. I found myself grasping many truths anew from all that I saw and experienced. Lesson one: Contrast.

Two weeks ago, I was in my Wyoming home. While there, I spent many hours playing with my nieces, baking bread, and working on a mind-numbing bird puzzle. And, though my home town is not the smallest nor the quietest place, it is geographically located in a remote patch of the map. Thus, as I drove back to Colorado at the end of my stay, I was surrounded by massive stretches of lonely, albeit enticing, landscape. Antelope, sheep, and deer were far more abundant than people as I made my way down WY.

As soon as I arrived home that day, I scrambled to do laundry, reorganize and pack again for my departure to New York City early the next morning. In a whirlwind of light naps, coffee sips, newspapers, purse and bag lugging, safety instructions, seat-belt signs, and restless legs, I was whisked to the Big Apple.

It didn't take long to feel the contrast. One day I was in the boondocks. The next day I was in one of the most famous and frenzied cities in the world. You may ask me to choose which I like better. The answer would depend on when you asked. I don't much prefer ice cream first thing in the morning. Late afternoon or early evening, however, ice cream is quite appealing. So, NYC or remote WY? Just depends.

One thing is true, however. Humans are still human in NYC. Brilliant discovery, I know. The difference in style and interests between a Wyoming coal miner and a Broadway artist may be astounding, but they both need food, rest, and companionship. They both get their feelings hurt, feel vulnerable, or have moments of elation.

So it is that this huge and sudden contrast between these two locations made me wish to be an anthropologist.

I am intrigued.