(In)ability to see

August 27th

I am very proud of my ability to see more and notice more than regular people. Or at least I believe I can see and notice more. Small details, uncommon patterns, rare color combinations, things that only look ordinary but really aren’t. I sometimes write about those things here, and I write about my ongoing struggle to put this ability to good use. That has to do with me noticing a change of mood or expression I see on people’s faces or in their body language. I see it, I analyze it, but in most cases, I don’t notice the obvious reason behind the expression I see. Basically — I am blind to most of the feelings other people might have. Or if I see them, I am prone to misinterpret them and create a narrative in my head that has no grounding in reality.

But just seeing things — here I am truly and extremely good.

And then something happens that makes me question it.

There is a sidewalk along the main street in my neighborhood. There are some apartment buildings there. A strip mall, a green market, a school, two supermarkets, a deli, a bakery, another deli, and more apartment buildings as you walk up this street. There is a post office, a beauty parlor, a hairdresser, and a flower shop along this street as well. I walked along this street thousands of times — I was born nearby, I went to school there, and all my friends lived there. That was my world for the first 18 years of my life. After several decades abroad, I came back to my home hometown three years ago. And since I now live very close to where I grew up (basically just across railroad tracks) I still keep walking along this street. The street, the sidewalk, the buildings, and the shortcuts have no surprises for me. I’ve seen EVERYTHING there hundreds of times, and if there is anything interesting there, I would have noticed it for sure.

And today, for the first time in my life, I noticed this bike stand as in the photo above. An old and rusty bike stand, so it had to be there for a while. Right across the bakery. Right along the sidewalk. Right in the open, not hidden in shrubs or anything. Right there for years. And I have never seen it on any of my hundreds or even thousands of walks there. I was shocked. I noticed it as I was walking back from the green market, and had to put down my bag and think for a while about it. I had no clear explanation as to why I have never seen it. And it bothered me. After about an hour, as I was on a morning bike ride, I had to go back there just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things the first time. And no — it was still there, as I saw it in the morning. I have no clue why I have never seen or noticed it. But this whole experience tells me that I need to pay even closer attention to what is around me. I might think I’ve seen everything while walking along familiar places, but apparently, I haven’t. And that is actually a good thing — I will have the ability to discover more things I might have overlooked, even in my most intimate surroundings.