When we move into a new place, one of the first things we do is start "making the house a home". We put up art we like, and arrange it in a way that's just so. And by doing so, it ceases being "a place" and becomes "OUR place". Technically, nothing changes in the grand scheme of things - it's still the same apartment or house it was before - but we've altered it on the surface to make it more attractive to us, and more comfortable for us to live in.
We do the same thing with reality.
When faced with information, or just take things in with our senses, we metaphorically paint it the way we'd like. So when we hear a white policeman shoots a black man, it can either be "another case of police brutality" or "another dumb criminal got his just desserts", depending on what tint we have in our world-view paint can. It might very well be an open-shut case of police blowing away an innocent man, or it might very well be a stupid criminal who had to be stopped. Or it might be one of those shades in between.
But the thing is - it doesn't matter. We don't have to hear the facts - we've already painted the picture from the moment we hear about it. And as more facts come out, if they argue against our world view, we fight tooth and nail against changing. We've staked out our turf, and we ain't moving if we can possibly help it.
I've noticed this happening to me more and more as I get older. And I'm trying to fight it. And it's really really difficult. It's just SO easy to slap a coat of paint on it.
I was made aware of some British woman the other day. Her hypothesis, shrunk down to a sentence, is "I gained a lot of weight then lost it, and I now have ample proof that fat people are simply lazy and refuse to do anything to improve their lot." And it's so easy to just throw some "she's fat-shaming" paint on that and leave it behind.
But that's not how I want to live. Because maybe she's right. And maybe she's wrong. But if she's wrong, let's just PROVE her wrong.* Let's not immediately discount the theory, because it might have merit.
Lex
* - I'd like to think I'm living proof that it's wrong. I spent agonizing years trying to get my weight to a 'normal' range. It got to the point where my mind was constantly on what I could do to burn more calories, and avoid eating more without ruining my metabolism. Like, literally, that was all I was thinking about. And yeah, I lost forty pounds. But I wasn't very happy. I couldn't just go enjoy something because I thought that time might be better spent doing crunches or walking around the block again or whatever. So finally, I gave in. I didn't sit down and eat an entire ham or anything, but I said "OK, let's just eat somewhat carefully, and exercise enough to keep me feeling good." And, big surprise, my weight started going back up again. Was I "lazy" by not keeping at it? Sure, I guess, the way a guy who doesn't run a four-minute mile is "lazy" for not really pushing himself to do so. The work wasn't worth the "reward", which was smaller clothes and occasional compliments from people. BFD. I'd rather be happy and think about other stuff and wear XL shirts.
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