‘[B]ecause there are no light sensitive cones where the optic nerve connects to the retina, we each have a literal blind spot I the centre of the visual field.  But we are blind to our own blind spot: our brain unfailingly registers a seamless world.’*

I’ve just lost a contact lens down a plug hole.  Ugh.

It seems that this is the least of my worries as there are ten times more fibres running from my brain to my eye, than from my eye to my brain, meaning I am lying to my eyes about what they are seeing.  Furthermore, if I were able to remove my self-consciousness from this relationship of eye and brain, then I’d ‘see nothing but lonely points of light in formless space.’*

Our unique worldviews mean we all see something different.  It’s why listening to you speak about what you see is so important to me.

These worldviews are our stories, and we’re telling stories all the time – so much so that we often don’t even notice we’re doing it.  The bus driver in shades.  The woman walking with an elbow crutch.  The two fire engines passing each other as they travel in different directions.

I’ve just begun to read Steve Peter’s The Chimp Paradox because I’m wanting to see more through his eyes.  He names “seven planets in a psychological universe”: understanding self, understanding others, communicating effectively, living in your world, maintaining your health, being successful, and, being happy – all things we’re trying to figure out as we put together our stories in the best possible way.

Even with my contact lens, I only see a tiny part of what life and the universe is about.  People show me far more.

It is in seeing more together that I suspect some of the most creative things we’ll be about as humans will come into being.

‘The critical point is not to stereotype the situation, even if it looks like something familiar.’**

(*From Jonah Lehrer’s Proust Was a Neuroscientist.)
(**From Edgar Schein’s Helping.)