Um, yeah.

My dad once made this great analogy about perspective:  Two people can be looking at the same object (a bouquet of flowers, say), but the object is different for each of them.  No matter how close they are sitting, the viewing angle is slightly different.  Beyond that, they each bring different past experiences to their perception of the object.  For instance, say there were lilies at my grandfather’s funeral.  If there are lilies in the bouquet, they will might make me think of that.  Someone else might not feel the same.

This is really true with anything.  In some ways, it is a lonely feeling to know that we are so isolated in our view of the world and of people.  No one else really shares anything with us.  Even writing about something, as I am now, does not truly share the perspective.  It is said that a piece of writing belongs both to the author and the reader, and this is really true.  A poem is different for different people because each reader brings his own personality and memories, his own perspective to the piece.  Perhaps that is part of this need some people have to believe in a higher power, someone to share our perspective.

So it is a wonder that we can communicate with each other as well as we can.  We shouldn’t be suprised when communication breaks down, but rather, we should be in awe that it ever works at all.  Still, because I am a good communicater, because I make my living and my relationships by that skill, I am so stunned when I fail.  In fact, much of the time, I don’t even notice until it is called to my attention.