One time John and I traveled economy class to California. After two layovers and jet lag I was weary. There were people on the same flight who sat in first class.  While for me the trip was arduously long, when we deplaned I overhead a couple chatting about how pleasant it had been. One of them mentioned the complimentary meals and the other laughed about the movie. Same flight. Different experience. 

Snobs. 

Last week John and I were elbow to elbow setting up equipment to sing. When the gig ended I felt depleted, and wished John would ask me how I was. I expected him to ask me. He was insensitive if he didn't ask me. But he was busy with cables and hummed to himself. When we climbed in the car he spoke. 

"That was fun." How dare he!

"So I guess I am wrong if I didn't enjoy it." I snapped. He got quieter than a chicken with hawks overhead. 

A few days later he broached the topic.

"Sometimes it doesn't feel safe talking to you." Me? The compassionate listener? I had decided that my vantage point was the right one, True North, and that if he did not share it he was mistaken. It had not occurred to me that there was room on the planet for him to have his own experience.

I have heard that people who only have sight in one eye cannot have depth perception. Maybe listening to John could help me go deeper.