Dancing leaves

Perspective is probably the most magical of all my senses, although it may not be the most dependable.

Yet, perhaps it is the most reliable of all, because it uses my heart more than my head and is devoid of most of my more contorted views.

My perspective has turned a white trash bag into an elegant swan. It sees leaves dancing in December and hears the Nutcracker Suite. It looks upon the faces of those I love and they are forever beautiful.

Sometimes I try to step outside this protective coating and envision the world the way others might see it. The way people not in love with my life and my views see my world.

I wonder if they see it as distorted, or shabby, ridiculous, or sad. That bothers me for less than a microsecond because I soon step back into the place where I live. The reality of my life. The thoughts and belief systems that have made it worth getting to where I am now.

I'm not sure I had anything to do with my perspective. Whether it is a cultivated way of living, or a contrived coping mechanism, I honestly don't know. It's even possible it is hard wired into my being, but whatever it is, I'm glad it's mine.

It serves me well.