Aselin

Many years ago I was exposed to some of those weird optical illusions that look like one thing but actually are two. One I remember specifically is the old lady/young lady. I could easily see the young woman in a hat looking away, but had a really hard time seeing the old woman. I would stare and squint while the kids around me expressed exasperation. I was frustrated, and tempted to lie and say “Oh yeah, I see it.” Optical illusion peer pressure can be among the most intense of the peer pressures.




Suddenly, I saw her, the old woman. It was anti-climactic as my friends were less than impressed with my accomplishment, and my new awareness had no value whatsoever.

The 80’s were full of pop art optical illusions. Everything from the never-ending staircases of M.C. Escher to the tiny redundant prints that held a 3D image if you blurred your eyes enough. Seems we spent much of our time trying to see hidden things, follow never ending pathways and feeling superior when we were one of the few to uncover the secret. To this day, I have still never seen one of the floating 3D images that people swear are there.

The small town I grew up in, Ojai, California, (pronounced o-hi), is encircled with mountains. The word Ojai comes from a Chumash Indian word that supposedly means “nest.” One of the highest mountains is called “Chief Peak,” and bears the image of a stately Indian in repose. I’ve always been able to see the “Chief.” It’s so obvious, but I’ve pointed it out to many a person who was completely unable to see it.



Like my grade school friends I repeatedly found myself frustrated that my companions couldn’t see the image I so clearly pointed out.

Having had to make peace with the fact that I can’t make out 3D art, I’ve come to realize that seeing what other people point out is rarely important. My dog Sanook reinforces this fact. He loves other dogs. Over and over I’ve pointed with my finger at another dog in the distance only to have Sanook look directly at my finger, completely missing the ‘puppy.”

The reality is that what we see is much less important than how we see. I’ve spent hours in a friend’s powder room contorting my face and body trying desperately to make out one of those 3D images hung on the wall. As the frustration built, the intensity of my commitment to see the “floating heart” increased to frantic proportions. With people banging on the door begging to get in, I had barricaded myself in isolation obsessed with figuring out the cypher. Avowing not to exit until I had accomplished my quest.

There is nothing remotely healthy about this behavior. I never did see the heart. And unlike my dog, I had all these negative emotions about it. The reality is, my fixation made me miss out on a bunch of other fun stuff. I would have seen much more if I had, like my dog, looked for the “puppy”, seen only the pointer finger, been happy, and moved on.

Having made some feeble attempts at maturity I’ve realized that if you fixate on “Chief Peak” you miss all the other mountains. Perspective is often more useful than detail. The big picture is lovely.

The other mountains are spectacular.