Last week, I attended the Spiritual Directors International annual conference in Niagara Falls,
New York. Of course, being present with the natural wonder of the falls was part of the
experience. There was a forest bathing session that cast the Niagara River into a context of
sacred relationship. References to the wisdom of water were abundant.
While preparing for the trip, I was advised to take my passport, because the Canadian side of the
Niagara River is the “good side.” Once I was there, I understood this advice. The falls
themselves are easily accessible from the United States side of the river. There are multiple
vantage points to observe the mists that rise from the massive amount of water plummeting a
tremendous height at great speed. There is even a boat that one can take out into the calmer deep
water at the base of the falls.
As wonderful and awe inspiring as it is, though, it’s very close. When one is at the top of the
waterfall, one’s perspective is limited. Even from one of the boats, the mists are sometimes the
only thing that’s really visible. You might feel the spray of the water and the rumble of the falls.
Certainly the roar of the cataract is omnipresent. And yet, one can only perceive the scene in
pieces.
From the Canadian side of the river, there’s a little more distance. A person can stand in one spot
and take in the full scope of the multiple waterfalls and the ancient rocks upon which the water
breaks into droplets that rise into the air as clouds of mist. The Canadian side is the “good side”
if one wants to be able to witness a broader view of the scene.
Of course, there’s a lot more natural wonder along the river than just that one locale where
hundreds of thousands of gallons of water per second plummet more than 17 stories. Even with a
broader perspective, one can’t possibly see everything at once. And it’s all changing all the time.
But I wonder how often we assume that we are privy to sufficient information, when in reality
we are far too close to a situation to claim an expansive perspective. It can be challenging to
recognize when we need to take a step back—or several, large steps back—and include in our
perspective pieces of a situation that we couldn’t really consider with all that mist in our faces.
And even if we can’t personally give ourselves ample distance to consider a breadth of
possibilities, we can operate under the assumption that there are things we cannot see. That other
people have experienced things from a different angle and hold insights and wisdom that simply
never had a chance to coalesce in our minds.
I suppose this is one definition of humility. Realizing that there is another side to the river, and
that the view from that side is very different from wherever I am. And beyond there just being
another side to the river, there are innumerable places along that river. I cannot possibly hold
every experience of it in my own awareness.
Where might you cross the river and observe things from not quite so close? Who else might
have insights or wisdom that can expand your own perspective, just because they’ve experienced
things from different places than you?