
If Perspective is how we take in the world and Voice is how we respond, then they are the airlocks between ourselves and everything else, the mechanism of our input and output, the beginning and the end of any moment we experience.
Perspective is your unique view. Voice is your unique way of reaching out. Between the two – connecting them, giving them their uniqueness – is something mysterious: for lack of a better word – you.
Must Perspective come before Voice? In a banal scientific sense, the world existed before we entered it. And when most new arrivals squirm out, they start by opening their eyes. But others come out screaming. Chicken or egg is immaterial, but sometimes it’s invigorating to picture yourself as the baby screaming – your Voice came first and the world bent to meet it.
You know when you’re buying concert tickets and the only ones left say, “Partially Obstructed View”? That’s our Perspective. We’re in the cheap seats craning our necks around all the annoyingly tall people dancing in front of us. Plus our glasses are smudged and the prescription’s a little off. But we’re still at the show. We’re the only ones who get to see it from that exact angle on that exact night. Sometimes, because our seats are way off to the side, we even get a candid glimpse behind the curtain.
We are too familiar with our own Perspective, the way a prisoner is too familiar with their cell. We’ve memorized the scratches on every brick and bar. We’ve named all the birds outside the tiny window. We know everything inside so well that it’s easy to forget we can’t get out. We can’t spend a night in anyone else’s cell. We can only hear them and assume their words carry everything we need to know. We measure their Voice against our Perspective and get annoyed when they do the same.
Our Voice sounds different in our heads. Deeper. More significant.
When I started a substack, I thought this would be a good mission statement: to get to know that in-between space by studying my Perspective and Voice. I had a dream that by giving voice to my Perspective and perceiving my Voice, I could create a virtuous cycle that would master my inner self and thus unlock boundless, brilliant writing. Now I’m not so sure. Omniscient Perspective is reductive, and omnipotent Voice is boring. I’m not so certain I can know that space between, and maybe that’s the point. If I’m lucky, I’ll sharpen my Perspective and Voice and return them to that mysterious stranger inside. I may never truly know him, but I’m curious to see what he comes up with.
Marc, this is lovely. I’ll be ruminating on this all day.