“I am sure this is the cubbyhole where I put the checkbook.” I said.
“Then, give it to me. I need to write a check.” Denny responded.
“It’s not here. I remember distinctly putting it back in this little cubbyhole in my desk.”
“Then, it would be there.” Denny said.
“I know I put it right here.”
Denny walked away and into his room. I thought, “he used the checkbook and he forgot to return it to the cubby hole.. I frantically looked in every drawer of my desk. I looked in my purse, my closet, even the glove compartment of my car. No where could I spy the checkbook.
I gave up and was making a salad for lunch. You know the feeling. Chop, chop, chop. Where did I leave it? Chop, chop. Oh, I hope its not at the grocery or in the parking lot. I know I put it in that cubbyhole. Chop , slice, chop. “What Denny?” I asked as I heard him calling to me. In he walked with a smile on his face.
“Here is the checkbook. It was in the entrance hall on the chest.”
My mind is a wonderful yet deceitful thing. I see but my mind says it is something else. When I draw or paint, I think I see something. I see a bright spot of yellow and paint it and it looks out of place. I look at the landscape again. Yep, bright yellow, medium cad yellow needed. So, I paint a bigger yellow spot. It looks even worse. What is the problem? Is it there or not? Does it exist or has my mind “fixed” it with yellow.
Likewise, when I draw a person , sometimes I draw them leaning the opposite way that they are standing. Why? My mind “fixes” things without my permission.
As I often write blogs, I can’t see my grammar error or word connotation error. I am blinded to my own thinking because I am in my world, my perspective, my understanding. I am frozen there and unable to move to a broader understanding or see missing details.
So, how do I change my paradigm? I get constructive criticism from other writers or painters. I seek trained eyes to help me see my flaws. I am so close to the situation that I cannot find the real truth in the landscape, nor can I see my misplaced modifier. Even though God has given me gifts, they are not complete in me alone. He uses others to complete my gift. He makes me vulnerable by having to ask others. I must admit my inability to see accurately or remember where I placed the checkbook. That can be humiliating to some and sometimes me. However, most of the time I can accept that my mind is tricking me. By asking others, I trick my mind. I over ride its decision. I seek new information to my situation.
Another’s insight is my gain if I can step back and accept I am wrong. My mother and father could never do that and it resulted in divorce. My extended family from Kentucky couldn’t do that and have remained racist. Even a former pastor couldn’t admit he had wrong thinking or a distorted perception on some issues and the result was a loss of many members. Hard, heels set in the ground folks have a difficult time coming over the “I am right” syndrome.
I try to remember that I have two feet. Not two right ones or one right and one wrong. I just look down and see I have a right one and a left one. Each are used to push me forward, to navigate my journey, and at times to insure my safety. So, being wrong is not so humiliating or such an issue as I age. Instead, it is a new perspective offered to me by others. God uses our husbands, our children, and our friends and colleagues to sharpen us and correct us. We are being molded to see things rightly, not wrongly.