Those of you who have been on this journey with me for a while know there was a period when I was fascinated with the patterns, textures and colors of our ferry floors. For the most part that passion has waned, but every once in a while it surfaces again; for me, still, the ferry floor is like a fascinatingly random abstract painting, just as I am still drawn, 15 years later, to the patterns in driftwood that initially occupied my photography.
Perhaps our eyes become imprinted with a particular way of seeing that's hard to shed? That might explain why, when my husband looks at me, he still sees the woman he married 28 years ago. But it might also explain our refusal to see or listen to things that fall outside our assumptions; to be open to change, new information, and compromise. Yet another facet of being that has its positives and negatives...
No comments:
Post a Comment