We moved to the side of the track, rested on some cold rocks, and pulled our water bottles from the backpack. Stew and I had left the impressive Hooker Lake, complete with icebergs and iridescent blue water from the Hooker Glacier, a few kilometers behind us. Shadowing the valley, Aoraki (Mt Cook), looked imposing even in this low snowfall winter. The mild snow season meant that instead of crunching through a valley of snow on the South Island of New Zealand, we were enjoying a vista of tussock grasses, under a bright but cold sky.   

“Whoa! Check that out!” Stew pointed to the snow-capped mountain in the distance.

“What?”

“Just wait.”

Sure enough, a gust of high-altitude wind brushed the tops of the peak and a rainbow of color exploded above the mountain top. We’d never seen anything like it. The wind subsided and the blend of colors diffused into the blue sky. As we watched, another gust brought the refraction back to life. It was one of those perfect timing moments, the angle of the mid-afternoon sun behind the mountain, meeting the breezes that whipped the powdered snow up into our field of vision.

Walkers passed by, mostly from behind us, returning from the glacial lake with the same aim; enjoy the walk, but get back to their cars and vans before the sunlight disappeared from the rocky valley. 

Stew greeted a couple of Asian tourists coming towards the lake who seemed interested in what had caught his attention.
“Aren’t those colors amazing?” he said, gesturing to the range as they passed by, smiling and nodding politely.
Always one to share, he tried again, describing the wonder of it all to the next couple. He shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t speak English,” he said, “Or they’re worried they won’t make it back in time.”

He plonked beside me and rearranged the bottles in the backpack. “Did you get some photos?”
I checked the preview screen on my camera. I even pinch zoomed on it.

Huh? Where’s the rainbow?

It only took a few seconds for everything to click into place.

I’d accidentally left the polarizing lens in the motorhome.

And we were wearing polarized sunglasses.

The other hikers weren’t.

Stew had been excitedly directing their gaze to the mountain, suggesting they’d be amazed by a sight they literally couldn’t see.  

My mirth began as a reflexive snort, that rolled into a chuckle.

Each time I remembered the bewildered faces of the walkers, I laughed some more. Their polite smiles and nods at the lunatic who was pointing to mountains and telling them about the bright swirling colors emanating from them.

I wondered if we’d feature in their travel journal that day…

“… met the weirdest people on this walk. Hallucinating about colorful mountaintops…”

Already tired by the walk, I was gasping with laughter by the time I told Stew.

“What’s so funny?”

“Take your glasses off for a sec.”

“What for?”

“Trust me.”

More walkers passed by, smiling but no doubt wondering why we were laughing hysterically at each other.

(Look! We snapped a dodgy iPhone photo to prove we’re not completely mad 😉)

Have you ever tried to explain your view of the world to someone and they just don’t get it?

There’s always a chance they literally can’t see what you’re talking about… and if that’s the case, there’s a very good chance they’ll think you’re a lunatic.

That’s because our perspectives can operate just like polarized sunglasses.

Do you see rainbows when others insist there are only storm clouds? Or perhaps you see storm clouds while people rave about a brightly colored view that escapes you no matter how much you squint. It’s so easy to dismiss each other, isn’t it?

Both can be true, but the challenge comes in our willingness to remove our ‘perspective’ glasses and witness what the other person truly sees. It takes great courage and skill, first to admit you’re wearing perspective glasses, and then to remove them and consider another’s view of the world.

We’ve all met people who’ll never admit they wear perspective glasses, let alone consider removing them. Their view is correct and irrefutable. “If I can’t see those rainbows, they don’t exist. You’re all crazy!”  They hold on to their position, whether rainbow or storm, convinced someone is trying to force them to change, to steal their safety from them.

Life’s beauty and ultimate wisdom offers us this choice. Will we go searching for and deliberately challenge our perspectives?

Life dares us to see that snowy mountain decorated with the colors of the rainbow,

AND see it without them; bright white against a blue sky,

to see it plagued with a dark gray storm,

and see it disappear behind snow clouds.

It’s only when we’ve seen the mountain from everyone’s perspective that we’re free to choose our focus because we finally understand and accept how it appears to others.
Will you stay with your old perspective? Maybe, maybe not.

Once you’ve witnessed another’s reality, you can’t deny their reality without denying your own.

Once you’ve witnessed another’s reality, you can’t deny their reality without denying your own.

Why couldn’t the walkers see the rainbow on the mountain?

Because they weren’t looking at it from our perspective.

Why were we confused about their lack of reaction?

Because we weren’t looking at it from theirs.  

Much Love,