I was watching some boxing the other night. It's not something that I normally do, as I'm not a huge fan of boxing in general, and I didn't know either of the boxers that were fighting. Something struck me though, so I wanted to watch a bit. Specifically, I was taken by the knowledge of the announcers and how it didn't seem to match up with my own experience of the fight. I was listening to them talk about how one of the fighters was clearly beating the other fighter and that it wasn't even close. I didn't see the same thing they did, which isn't all that surprising since I wouldn't recognize the distinctions in performance in pretty much any sport that I don't follow closely. I wouldn't see the fine differences in ice skating, fencing, or diving, for instance. They showed slowed-down parts of the fight, and it became clear that they were right. The fighter was clearly making contact with his punches that I didn't see with my untrained eye.
This got me thinking about the things that we take for granted. We become specialists in so many things that just seem natural to us. In fact, it's a hidden process most of the time. We don't even recognize the extent of our own knowledge until we're confronted by someone outside that realm asking about it. It's the water that we swim in, but others are looking into the fishbowl from the outside. I think this may be why I'm always surprised by how other people react to the crazy things I do. What would make a seemingly normal 40-something guy drive silly distances to run around in the cold and the mud? What kind of madness would make someone want to run ultramarathons? As I've told more people than I can remember, inside my head I'm a 16-year old kid - and what 16 year-old boy doesn't want to run around in the mud if they're given the chance? This is my foundation, so it's difficult for me to imagine someone who wouldn't want to do this stuff. The problem is if we start to feel precious about our foundations. That's when we feel as if we're the only ones who truly understand our little corner of the world. If we are too tightly identified with that knowledge, then we doubt anyone else who might have a slightly different perspective. At that point, our foundation becomes the lens through which we judge all other participants, and we start to doubt their ability to measure up to our standards. All of which is counterproductive to understanding each other, and should be avoided if possible.
This got me thinking about the things that we take for granted. We become specialists in so many things that just seem natural to us. In fact, it's a hidden process most of the time. We don't even recognize the extent of our own knowledge until we're confronted by someone outside that realm asking about it. It's the water that we swim in, but others are looking into the fishbowl from the outside. I think this may be why I'm always surprised by how other people react to the crazy things I do. What would make a seemingly normal 40-something guy drive silly distances to run around in the cold and the mud? What kind of madness would make someone want to run ultramarathons? As I've told more people than I can remember, inside my head I'm a 16-year old kid - and what 16 year-old boy doesn't want to run around in the mud if they're given the chance? This is my foundation, so it's difficult for me to imagine someone who wouldn't want to do this stuff. The problem is if we start to feel precious about our foundations. That's when we feel as if we're the only ones who truly understand our little corner of the world. If we are too tightly identified with that knowledge, then we doubt anyone else who might have a slightly different perspective. At that point, our foundation becomes the lens through which we judge all other participants, and we start to doubt their ability to measure up to our standards. All of which is counterproductive to understanding each other, and should be avoided if possible.
