Cutting Through the Fog

Yesterday afternoon the airplane carrying me from London was on approach to the airport in Palma, Majorca.  As I looked through my window I was concerned that we were landing in a rather heavy fog, but I had confidence in ground radar and our pilots.  After we landed safely I looked through a window on the opposite side of the plane, to see no fog at all.  I looked back through my window.  Heavy fog.

Was there fog on my side of the plane and not on the other?  No.  My window was fogged over, creating the impression of fog outside.  Beyond my window the air was clear.

This morning I awoke slightly after sunrise, and as I stared out the window at faint pink clouds the wooden side of the window seemed to flutter in my view.  Was the wood in fact fluttering?  No.  There is an astigmatism in my eye.

I was struck by the idea that my view of the world is not universal.  It is unique to me.  I see colors slightly differently than you do.  I interpret words in my own way.  I like to sit and think.  My daughter Sara, on the other hand, likes to keep moving.  She teaches yoga for many hours a day.

Yesterday I received a draft of twelve designs for the front cover of my book, People Tools, to be released next January 21.  I liked version #1 far and away the best, perhaps because it had my name at the bottom in letters bigger than the title.  I asked many of my friends which alternative they liked best because I am selling my book to the public, not to me.  Their consensus was either #5 or #9.  Clearly, my view of the cover, just like my view of the fog, the window wood, or sitting, was not universal.

I am reminded of the scene in Woody Allen’s film Annie Hall in which, on a split screen, he is asked by his therapist, “How often do you sleep together?”  His answer is, “Hardly ever.  Maybe three times a week.”  On the other side of the screen Diane Keaton’s reply to the same question is, “Constantly.  I’d say three times a week.”

Each of us has to remember that while the world is universal, our view of it, in every respect, is unique.  Or do we disagree on that?

An accountant, a mathematician, and a lawyer were the finalists for the position of University President.  The board of trustees arranged for one final boardroom visit with each.  The candidate who best answered a single question would be hired.

First they called in the CPA and asked, “How much is two plus two?”

“Simple,” he said.  “The answer is four.”

The board thanked him, then brought in the mathematician to answer the same question.

“Well,” he said, “To a lay person the answer may seem simple.  But to a mathematician suffice it to say that the answer is somewhere between a theoretical three and a theoretical five.”

Finally the lawyer appeared. Before responding he ran to each door and locked it.  Then he closed the drapes.  Finally he leaned toward the board of trustees and said, “How much would you like it to be?”

In your life, and mine, our answers may be simple, theoretical, or whatever we would like them to be.  But they will be different.  As the French deputy in the back of the chamber, shouted out when the speaker noted that there were differences between men and women, “Vive la différence.”

I don’t speak French, but I say to all people, “Vive la différence, indeed.”

Alan

Available January 21, 2014.  May be pre-ordered at peopletoolsbook.com today.