Cultivating Awareness

The following two chapters are excerpted, with permission, from the book Life Teachings: Raising a Child . For more information, read the review of the book in this issue or visit the Life Teachings website at www.lifeteachings.com.

Turning the Viewpoint
Empathy was a word that the girls learned early in their lives. I started using the word and talking the concept with them as early as when Lara was two years old. I called it "turning the viewpoint." We played games imagining that we were in the body or head of a cow we were watching in the field. What do we see? How does the world look from his point of view? Does he have any concerns? Using this framework, we looked at the family dog, newspaper articles about people, victims of fire, and contest winners. It was easy when we had no vested interest in the person or animal. It was only an exercise at this point. We each added insight from what we were picturing or imaging as we turned our viewpoint to theirs. This was not done in a school-like fashion, but rather in an easy musing fashion.

Soon, we turned our attention to people and events we encountered, not just those we read about. If a seller at the farmer's market seemed cross, we played with possibilities that could explain her rudeness. If a sign told us to rinse our bodies before entering the swimming pool, we talked of why the owner felt a need for such a posting. If a classmate got into trouble for stamping her feet on her way to the pencil sharpener, we talked of what might have produced such behavior and what might be the teacher's reaction.

Through our exercises, it was clear that changing the viewpoint revealed many possibilities to us. Whether or not any of our thoughts were accurate did not change the fact that our exercises showed us that rarely was a behavior directed personally at us. Instead, the behavior was likely driven by aspects of the person's life that we didn't know. Turning the viewpoint taught us to take the spotlight off of ourselves and focus it more on another or an event. It further encouraged us to understand that we might react the same way if we were in the other person's shoes.

When we moved into sibling disputes, we moved into a vested arena. Here, we didn't always examine the other viewpoint for I didn't want it to be tedious for them and perhaps become a perfunctory activity. We mainly used "turning the viewpoint" when we were seeking to understand a possible reason behind some behavior or response. I felt that it was important for them to know that to understand the reason behind an action did not always mean that one agreed with the action. Understanding and agreeing could be two separate things.

By learning to change our viewpoint, we all bought the gift of time concerning a perplexing or hurtful person or situation, and often the benefit of the doubt. With this temporary benefit of the doubt, we often found out that things were not always as bad as they had initially seemed.

More than Meets the Eye
By understanding and practicing empathy, our family quickly realized that there usually was more to learn about people and situations. Probably there is more to something or someone than meets the eye.

Geodes, wonderful stones from the geological realm, became our family's symbol of "more than meets the eye." Geodes are rocks that are sphere-shaped and quite ordinary looking. They are grayish and have bumps on them. They are not the kind of rocks that garner attention; they blend in with the soil and other nondescript rocks. Geodes can be broken into, but it takes great effort with a saw and plenty of work and time. When geodes are halved, inside are remarkably beautiful worlds that are quite unlike the outer surface. Inside can be sparkles and colors, and sometimes ages-old water. It is an unexpected world of colored crystals and minerals arranged in beautiful patterns. No two geodes are exactly alike; the colors, the degree of sparkle, and the size vary greatly and grandly. The inside beauty cannot be detected from the outside, and the beauty is revealed only after effort.

As a family we took this to mean that what people show us probably is not all there is to them. Details of the richness and beauty inside people are not always readily apparent from the outside. If we want to know more, we will have to put forth effort. The insides of geodes differ because of the surrounding conditions and materials that were present during their forming. People differ because of the experiences in which they participate. To get to the fascinating part, we have to show interest, ask questions, and listen.

Oil and gemstones are not found on the earth's surface, and geodes do not break open without effort. Each is discovered by solid attention from the searcher. They do not volunteer themselves.

We began buying halves of geodes and placing them throughout the house to remind us that things and people are not always what they look like or seem. There is more than meets the eye. Like a geode, a person may be quite nondescript looking from the outside, but with attention from us in the form of questions, we may discover unexpected beauty.

Today, each member of our family, in our different homes and apartments, has geodes that remind us of what we know to be true. Things and people are more than what they seem—a concept that helps us avoid too quickly labeling or categorizing people and situations.


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Copyright © 2003 Jeanie Davis Pullen. All rights reserved.