This is your perspective.

Your singular view. The area between where you stand and the object of your attention. A matter of distance — of time and space. The closer you stand, the details become more pronounced, though the sum of parts escapes your frame of vision. The further away, the details meld, but the bigger picture now comes into focus.

We all lose perspective at one point or another. We focus on a particular spot — an idea, a vision — and we put on blinders, either refusing to or incapable of expanding our view with a step to the side, forward, or backward.

Only those who are similar to us — in age, background, values, ambitions — those who also happen to be standing in the same place and at the same time — have any hope of seeing the world through our eyes.

To give shape to this area outside our personal line of vision, we color in what is missing via a constellation of feedback comprised of the internal: our memories, values, and ambitions, and external: our interactions, conversations, and collaborations.

Focus too much on either and you risk making faulty assumptions — overly relying on gut instincts at the expense of outside expertise, or putting too much faith in others’ perspectives and ignoring your own intuition.

It takes constant adjustment and filtration, but with practice and patience all these angles and intersections — all these vectors traveling from multiple directions and dimensions — form a structure that can bear unbiased weight. The weight of empathy and compassion.

Shared perspective.

A scribbler and scribe scribbling scribbles