My drive home from the gym concluded as it normally does—with a detour into the countryside. As the sun dwindled down for the night, the evening drive was an opportunity to decompress physically and mentally.
I peered to my right, digesting the sight of the sun through the half-open window.
What I find fascinating about this click is the polarization offered by the tint of my car’s window. Through the window, we see one interpretation of the sunset: light orange, peach, turquoise. Through the open portion of the window we see another interpretation of the sunset: pinks, purples, darker blues.
Both visuals are equally captivating. After all, they both contain the essence of a sunset, that soft amalgamation of hues that mark the transition of day to night. I think it also serves as a reminder of the role of perception.
The tint supplied by the window drastically changed my perception of observable reality.
I remind myself that all the experiences in my life are interpreted by me, so the lens I choose to look through things makes a drastic difference. An experience isn’t inherently negative or positive, bad or good, boring or fun—that is until I choose to attach a sentiment when I process it with my own lens.
It also reminds me to have empathy: everyone is viewing life with different tints—it’s impossible to see exactly what the other person sees, but I can make myself aware of the fact that it’s different.