The View from Other Eyes

There are images which I hold in my mind’s eye of moments that stood out somehow and burned themselves into the inner retina.

Some are silly,

some serious,

most are a mix of the two.

Some only belong to me, or at least it seems that way,

while some are part of the collective…



(this image may be familiar to you…)


Some seem very random,

but dig a little deeper and they often make sense, there’s an association somewhere within which is logical.

My mind often reminds me of these images,

like a person grabbing a photo album to show you a picture of some instance of their past which they’ve recalled due to a prompt by something in the present,

perhaps a similar experience has given them deja vu,

or a sensory stimulant has evoked the recollection,

or a word has pressed play on a hidden inner world because that word isn’t just a word to them, it’s a trigger, their password to a memory, the secret opener of a program implanted…




Sometimes all it takes for this to happen is for someone to ask you a question about yourself, your life…

while you’re thinking about how to answer,

seconds pass and within them are a kaleidoscope of memories flashing…

but what to share in your answer?

Your answer is not necessarily the end of a question…

What’s your favourite book?


End of story… unless they asked you that question so that you would return the favour, because what they really wanted to do was discuss their favourite eclair (the ones filled with creme patissiere).


count of monte cristo

(my favourite colour, cake and book)


The questions which people ask us are sometimes asked because they want to know more about us, but sometimes it’s because they want us to know more about them,

they’re prompting us to do that by doing to us what they want us to do to them – ask them about themselves, their favorutie things, their loves, hates and all in between.

Please be interested in me – we all psychically scream at others while being all proper, polite, silent maybe… on the outside.

Whether someone is asking you about yourself so that you’ll ask them about themselves or to create an opportunity to tell you whether you ask or not, or asking because they want to know more about you… either way we get to know ourselves better by getting to know others, and others get to know us better by telling us about themselves… getting to know themselves through us.

Sometimes you read about someone else’s story and… Boom!



(I wonder to whom this vibrant balloon once belonged before the wind took it on a trip to someone else)


Your story is front and centre, and wants to share itself with you, with others, with the person who brought this to the fore.

If you do share, how it is received can be with mixed reviews…

especially when you share something very personal with others,


especially if the other was into talking about themselves and now you’ve made what is of themselves about yourself.

That’s a natural and normal impulse, one of which we’re often not even consciously aware,

being mindful

(the hot word of the moment – mindfulness – triggering all sorts of people to sell you something which you already have but it’s got a new name so you may be beguiled into thinking that this is something new… but as you learn about it… you’re having flashes of familiarity)

may not always be possible,

as much of who we (and others) are is beyond the grasp of the mind

(but don’t tell the mind about that because it thinks it needs to control and know about everything which goes on with us… and sometimes with others too).


be the holder


What we see…

what others see…

is constantly in a process of evolving how we see…


  1. Yes. Very true. Sometimes asking about someone is an indirect method of trying to draw attention to yourself. I very much used to be that way when I was younger, and then finally it dawned on me that I was being a smuck. Shut up and pay attention, you might be missing something wonderful by yapping about yourself, I used to tell myself. Still have to, sometimes. Still catch myself yapping about myself, even. It’s a strong human impulse, that self-involvement.

    Good post. πŸ™‚ You do have a way of nailing those characteristics that can make us squirm. It’s good for us to squirm. Keeps us humble and real. πŸ™‚


    • Thank you πŸ™‚

      I sometimes catch myself wanting to tell people random facts about myself which have nothing to do with the conversation, and I like to corner myself and ask why – why do you need to tell this person this irrelevant detail?

      I make myself squirm just by being me, so… yup πŸ˜‰

      Sometimes though it’s good just to talk and not think about what is being said, because maybe it’s exactly what needs to flow out and maybe there’s something in it which will be relevant even if it doesn’t seem that way.


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