Perspective.

 

"Life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts and happenings.  It consists mainly of the storm of thoughts that are forever blowing through one's mind."

-Mark Twain

Last night, probably around 2 or 3 or 4, I woke up on top of my right arm and left leg. To say they were asleep is beyond an understatement. It was reverse phantom limb. Millions of nerves stampeding for blood supply, trampling each other into a neon buzz. In half-sleep-lucidity, I peacefully churned through possible reasons for this bizarre lack of muscle control: stroke, brain tumor, heart attack. I think I even processed the thought, "Oh Well." 
Obviously, this all was a result of some seriously deep sleep on an unfortunate angle, but that didn't even occur to me until the morning. I fell back asleep quickly, and woke up with four functioning limbs.
It got me thinking: IT'S ALL ABOUT PERSPECTIVE.

I've been meaning to write this post for some time now. In a way, I think perspective is the one singular thing that defines and separates us, as well as what allows us to connect with each other. Without perspective, we are all the same. 
You can argue that brain chemistry and upbringing make us into the people we are, or that we are born good or bad, smart or dumb. I am not contesting that - but that is all part of perspective. Where we've been, what we've done,  and the way in which we are wired shape the way we look at the world - our perspective.
When two perspectives clash, there is anger and frustration. Our reality is challenged, and no one - no_one- likes that.
 But when we meet another person whose perspective, when matched with our own, makes complete and total sense, we experience a human connection, an amazing thing. 
I think that there are aspects of ourselves that are steadfast - deeply ingrained elements, like sympathy and responsibility. Ones perspective can change constantly, or rarely, but these characteristics hold strong.
I am leaving my home, friends, car, cat, culture and country behind in just over one month. In 6 weeks, I will be in a different country. It's going to be sad, and amazing, hard and exciting, fun, and really freaking interesting. In the end, it will be a decision I can call a good one. 
Still, a part of me is going to die away, and thats kind of sad. The perspective I own right now is in its final days. (Which is a good thing, I'm sort of jaded and view most things through a sea of melancholy. Direct result of 9-5 capitalism. I'm sure of it.) I will never again see things as I do today,  sitting in my childhood bedroom, on my sisters laptop, thinking about what I believe and how I live and whether or not I will agree with myself in 365 days. 
oH, and I found my first grey hair today. White, actually. It's funny how the only choice we really have is to throw our hands up and go for the ride, and although it is tempting to resist, life is constantly reminding you of that fact.