I noticed early in life that if you experience an upgrade of
some sort – like replacing a piece of equipment with a new, improved version,
moving to a better area, or getting a better job – you don’t fully appreciate
the improvement until circumstances force you to go back to what you had
before. That’s when you really see the difference. So let me offer an allegory
in similar vein, as it pertains to life.
Let’s suppose you’re watching a film in which, because of
the subject matter, colour is most important. About half way through, the
colour starts to fade, but the change is so slow as to be imperceptible. It
isn’t until around three quarters of the way through, by which time it’s been
reduced to greyscale, that you realise you’re now watching the film in monochrome.
Although you recognise that something important is missing, you’ve been
habituated to the change so gradually that you accept the new state of affairs
without much complaint because you’ve grown used to it.
Suddenly the colour comes back, at which point your
appreciation of it is greatly heightened and your understanding of what was
missing made profoundly manifest. Colour has never looked so good. But it only
lasts a few minutes, at which point the drop back into monochrome is just as
sudden. Would you be happy to sit out the rest of the film in black and white?
I’m just talking to my blog as usual, you understand. Helen
has found a space in her diary to call me tomorrow, so I’ll tell her all about
it instead. Poor Helen.
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