We carry our history into every moment. It’s not baggage—it’s our native language. The way you see a challenge, hear a story, or feel a room isn’t a distortion of reality. It’s your reality, forged by everything you’ve lived.
This is your superpower.
It means you don’t just observe the world; you interpret it. You bring a colour, a depth, a texture that no one else can. That tension between your truth and someone else’s isn’t a sign that someone is wrong. It’s a signal. It’s the very friction where understanding can spark.
The goal was never to see the world cleanly. That would be to see it empty.
The goal is to see it bravely.
To have the courage to hold your view up to the light and say, “This is shaped by my story.” To meet a different truth not as a threat to yours, but as an invitation to expand it. This is how we build bridges from our solitary islands of experience.
True strength isn’t found in unwavering certainty. It’s found in the quiet, bold moment when you choose to ask:
“What am I bringing into this room?”
“What might I be missing?”
“What if their reaction isn’t about me, but about a history I can’t see?”
This changes everything.
In conflict, it turns a battle into a dialogue.
In leadership, it trades authority for true influence.
In love, it replaces being right with being connected.
So stop trying to erase your lens. Polish it. Know its contours and its blind spots. Then, use it not as the only way to see but as your launchpad to seek others.
Your perspective is where you begin.
Curiosity about every other perspective is how you grow.
The world doesn’t need neutral observers.
It needs engaged, self-aware participants who know that wisdom begins not with knowing the answer but with asking the right question of yourself and of others.
Start there.
