A shift in perspective changes a lightbulb and turns weeds to food

08 Jul A shift in perspective changes a lightbulb and turns weeds to food

by Kris Holstrom

  Is it a strip of weedy sidewalk? Or a potential edible landscape? Perspective makes all the difference.

Changing Telluride, changing our world, can be as simple as changing a lightbulb or seeing a garden where weeds used to be. (The edible landscape is outside the Telluride Academy's new home, in the old Silver Belle building on Pacific Street.

 What's required is a shift in perspective to get the ball rolling.

We are creatures of habit. We tend to sit in the same seat, walk the same route, think in the same way until something motivates us to change. Sometimes motivators are forced upon us: someone takes our usual seat, an injury forces us to change routines, etc. But a valuable tool when dealing with each other  –  friends and family to co-workers, community members –  and with our environment is to change our perspective on purpose.

The old adage "walk a mile in my shoes" comes to mind. You can change your perspective to gain greater understanding of other sides of issues. You can also change your perspective just to change, to see things in a new light, to appreciate more what's around you – or could be around you.

I recently realized that when I walked from the fitness center to my office, I always walked down the street, past Siam, past the construction on Oak St. A very urban scene – if only for a few blocks. One day it dawned on me I could avoid the 'urban' scene and walk the river trail. Now those of you who walk that trail all the time may scoff at this sudden epiphany, but I managed to break an old habit.
I also  enjoy the new experiences of walking by the river – sounds of rushing water and birds, smells of damp earth, and the occasional worker taking a smoke break. (Not everything is positive when perspectives are changed). The walk takes no longer and is, butts aside, a lovely 'natural interlude' before the workaday world begins.

Another day another change. Almost every year in the past we've found a place on Warner Field to view the fireworks. It's an incredible experience having the sky above you explode with the bangs and bursts of colored lights, the drifting debris meeting the roar of the appreciative onlookers. This year, with teenagers wanting to hang with their friends and husband asking to staying home, I was on my own.

I was unsure if the light show would happen, because the rain was sluicing off the road and nature was providing her own brand of fireworks on the drive in to town. People were leaving the park, so I drove to the end of our box canyon to wait out the rain. I was well rewarded – first by a big, bright moon rising through the clouds above Bridal Veil, then with a flash and a reverberating BOOM. Curtain up.

 It was beautiful to see the fireworks from this new perspective. Watching as the smoke cloud hung in the air along with the colors amplified by the moisture, feeling the echoes of the blasts in my bones as they circled around the end of the canyon, eventually dissipating to be replaced by the roar of the river. I knew the crowd was there, but I could not hear the noise. Solo,  the visual and aural treats were different somehow, mine alone. As good as it gets, but different from in years past when I had to share.

Habits and new perspectives: both are essential to acknowledge and understand as we as individuals and as a community move forward into the future.