Differing perspectives; same Heart

Pulling onto the Sandspit yesterday evening we were greeted by this glorious sunset, so my husband kindly stopped to let me take a few pictures -- which was a good thing, as it faded rapidly.  (Moral of the story: act on it when you see it, and always keep a camera handy!)

But what I really love about this image is that it's a view we never see.  The spit curves around to almost touch the island again, encircling a large lagoon.  This picture is taken from the entrance to the sandspit, but we live at the farthest end -- our house isn't even in this picture, it's way further to the left -- so though our sunrises look a lot like this one (minus the boat), we are actually looking across the lagoon at the very houses from which this shot is taken, and our sunsets -- which look out over the Olympic Mountains -- are completely different.

And yet we all share the same neighborhood -- and many of the same joys and concerns -- despite our different views and perspectives.  Hard not to see that as a microcosm of planet earth: we all share the same neighborhood -- and many of the same joys and concerns -- despite our different views and perspectives.

Thinking again of yesterday's deer, and that sense of safety, I can't help but imagine -- or maybe just dream of -- a world where we might finally understand that underlying sense of connectedness.  I think that might be what enlightenment looks like: to get that; to see, as Thomas Merton saw, "the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths where neither sin nor desire can reach, the person that each one is in God's eyes.  If only they could see themselves as they really are.  If only we could see each other that way there would be no reason for war, for hatred, for cruelty... I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other."