Do You See What I See?

 
 

Do you see what I see?  Yes. And no. 

As the Covid-19 emergency ‘officially’ comes to an end next week (on May 11th), I’ve been reflecting on the early days of the lockdown three years ago.  I’d go out early, before too many people were out, for a walk to ensure that I wasn’t housebound, to get some fresh (?) air, and to experience a change of scenery.  Most everything was a blur each day as I passed houses, apartment buildings, storefronts, parked cars (including some with people inside – wanting some privacy or alone time from family or roommates, I imagined).  The walks were mostly about movement before sequestering myself for the rest of the day.   

Some days I played the license plate game trying to find as many different states as I could -- a childhood road trip staple, translated for the streets of Brooklyn.  It was a mildly entertaining diversion, but only had me staring at the rear-ends of cars and missing everything else.  My friend Nancy, hearing this during an early Zoom happy hour (when they were still fun and a bit of a novelty), suggested instead that I look for objects of a specific color.  That made the entire walk the canvas and had me looking at all sorts of things – but initially focused on ones that were yellow.  And then turquoise, orange, fluorescent green, and purple.  The morning strolls brought focus, and a keener sense of observation as I walked the streets of Brooklyn noticing things that I’d passed by numerous times and ‘missed’.  For a month I looked at the colors that literally brightened my day – and invited me to look, and see, differently. I took photos along the way and shared color-based collages on social media, and was delighted to hear from friends, family, and colleagues who came along for the ride. 

My experience as a tennis player and fan also offers that invitation to look and see differently. For starters, I’ll share that I’m a ‘more enthusiastic than good’ tennis player.  You’ll find me scrambling on the court on Sundays and watching matches on television to get my fill of the sport.  But the highlight of the year is heading to Flushing Meadows and being at the US Open in person.  I’ve got a 25-year tradition of going to early round matches with my buddy Todd, a tennis coach.  We share the experience – walking the grounds, hearing grunts of players, cheering from the crowd, and taking in the sounds and smells of the National Tennis Center.  But what we take in and process is eye-opening.   

Watching these world-class athletes in action is a way to learn, see how to improve, better understand the game, and appreciate their talent.  I, like many, watch and track the ball (think of scenes where you see heads going back and forth), to see how points are constructed - and won.  Todd goes beyond that and focuses on one player watching his movement, racquet preparation, swing, follow-through, balance, and recovery.  Same scene, very different takeaways – some strategic, some technique, all tennis. Together we share (though he’s got a far deeper understanding and appreciation) and enjoy the day.  It shows the different ways we gather information, process it, and carry it with us.  For me, it’s a tangible reminder of the value of multiple perspectives and lenses that make for more data and information to inform more robust conversations, learning and decision-making. 

I’ve tried to hold on to that – and appreciate that what I see, you may not; and what you notice, I may have missed.  But together, we see more.