This article was brought to you by my dog. Not literally, though; between his many naps, belly rubs, and observing nature, Norman has a packed schedule. But he’s taught me a thing or two in the past few years, and this week is no different.
I’ve been surrounded by animals as long as I can remember. There were Bonnie and Clyde (dogs), Timothy (rabbit), Peanut and Oreo (hamsters), Samantha the cat, and too many horses to count; a few of them ours. Toby, Lucky, Eli, Dixee, Emma… animals have been teaching me all my life. By sitting and observing, I know the best places to put my feet or if there’s a big storm coming. By looking at how much hair the dogs or horses lost, I could tell if the springtime weather would push to summer sooner than the meteorologists predicted. Animals are the best mirrors, better than any other piece of glass. Their energy affects ours, and vice versa.
Back to Norman the dog: during the last big windstorm, a tired old tree had come down in our neighborhood. We walked past it, he sat down, looking off into the distance. We went up the hill, came back down, and BOOM. That tree took his full attention. I looked; there were no squirrels, birds, or (God forbid) deer or rabbits. But his perspective had changed.
This is the same reason why any horse person will ride both ways before doing any scheduled shenanigans. Their perspectives change with each direction. The context in which they see and make sense of the world changes… and it’s not just horses. As humans, we have dominant and non-dominant sides. (If you don’t believe me, try a yoga class.) Both ways of going and of being are different… not drastically, and you have to be pretty darn present to notice. The differences exist, regardless of your awareness.
What does this have to do with language? Simply put, everything.
“Culture” is something that is found in probiotics and humans everywhere. It’s why we do what we do; why we say what we say (in the way that we say it); it gives us values and songs and pieces of words and feelings to hold on to. This is why history is so dang important in learning anything – the size of a standard American railroad; the reasons why El Salvador is one of the most religious countries; why the Erasmus (now Erasmus +) program is called “Erasmus”.
When we learn the history of a certain person, place, or event, we learn the context in which it was created. This context is key. It’s why two trips just a few blocks apart to the Holocaust Museum and the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC have chillingly different vibes. As we learn this historical context, perspective is created.
Perspective and context are key in language, and therefore, in communicating and living in our world.
We create things based on our perspective; a perspective that can changed, altered, or otherwise affected by outside events, but one that is solely ours to own, manage, and maintain.
While perspective has historical socio-economic and educational bases, context is more of a current phenomenon. In this current situation, what is going on? Is your brain primed to be more cautious on the New York City subway because you know that there have been more violent episodes? If I tell you I’m planning a trip to Iceland, what will your response be – “Congratulations!” or “Why?” – because you know about the recent volcanic eruption?
Ironically, it was the same animal who runs in his sleep and chases plush squirrels to bring this to my attention. In our society, data rules everything. And with more information comes more division. We’ve taken on an “us” versus “them” approach more and more; from the cars we drive to the thought leaders we follow to the political decisions we push for.
Yet as humans, we have more in common than we have differences… theoretically. To make that theory a reality, our personal fortresses need to lower the moats on both our context and perspectives. Some of this is passive: tell me more about what you learned, about what you think, about what you believe. Others will take a more active approach and put themselves in another’s perspective.
It can be as simple as crouching down and seeing what your dog sees (personally, I think Norman has either the worst or the best vision out there, because I never sense what he does). But it’s not just the physical space. An active approach can also include learning about the history, the socioeconomic implications, the perspective in which that person’s books were written from. It can include surrounding yourself with different contexts, so you have a kaleidoscope of reference points.
Take it from the best guides I know: we can all get along with each other, if we share some context and perspective.
