Have you ever had a conversation with someone and thought, "Are we even living in the same world?"
It wasn't just that they disagreed with you. It was something deeper—as if they were operating from a completely different set of assumptions about how reality itself works. As if you were speaking different languages while using the same words.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately. How we can look at the same news story—whether it's about climate change, immigration, or who should lead our country—and see entirely different things. How desperately we want others to see what seems so obvious to us, and how futile those efforts usually are.
The Blind Men and the Elephant: Why We're All Seeing Differently
There's an ancient parable about blind men encountering an elephant for the first time. Each touches a different part—the trunk, the tusk, the ear, the leg—and describes the elephant completely differently. "It's like a snake," says one. "No, it's like a spear," argues another. "You're both wrong—it's like a fan," insists a third.
They argue endlessly, each convinced the others are mistaken or even lying and that their own view is the true view. Yet each speaks a partial truth based on their direct experience. None is entirely wrong, yet none possesses the complete picture.
I wonder if this is what's happening in how we talk to each other today. We're not just disagreeing about interpretations—we're literally experiencing different realities.
How Your Brain Creates Your Reality (And Why Others See Something Completely Different)
Anil Seth puts it this way: "We don't just passively perceive the world; we actively generate it. The world we experience comes as much from the inside out as from the outside in."
Our brains don't just record what happens around us like a camera. They're constantly making meaning from bits of information, filtering everything through our past experiences, values, and what we already believe. That's why two people can see the exact same thing and walk away with completely different stories about what happened.
The Biology of Perception: How Trauma Shapes What We See as Real
This perceptual divide goes beyond thought alone. Deb Dana, a trauma specialist and expert in Polyvagal Theory, shows that we make meaning from our nervous system state. If someone experienced trauma as a child, their body stores that experience, and they may perceive danger where others see none. Their reality isn't just a thought construction—it's embedded in their biology, in how their nervous system interprets the world. I know this one firsthand through my trauma recovery work.
Developmental psychologist Robert Kegan suggests that human consciousness evolves through different stages of meaning-making. We don't just gather more information as we grow—we fundamentally change how we organize our understanding of reality. Each stage is like a different world with its own logic and limitations.
Someone at a different stage isn't wrong or bad—they're experiencing reality through the lens that's currently available to them. And those who have moved through various transformations can sometimes forget how compelling and complete the world once appeared from previous perspectives.
The Hidden Cost of Worldview Change: Why We Resist Seeing Differently
When we encounter someone whose reality differs radically from our own, our instinct is to try to pull them into our world—oh, lord, how I've tried! I've found myself throwing every bit of evidence, every logical argument, and every heartfelt plea I can muster, believing that with just the right explanation, they'll suddenly see the light.
I know from my own journey what it feels like when long-held beliefs fall away. It's more than simply changing opinions on a topic or two—it's like having the foundation you've stood on for decades suddenly crack open. I wandered through months and years of confusion, no longer sure of anything I once knew without question. My community began to view me as a stranger when my beliefs changed. Everything I had counted on to make sense of the world had dissolved, and I felt utterly vulnerable.
It was a kind of death—and not everyone is ready for that journey. Not everyone needs to take it. I understand now why some fight so fiercely to avoid it.
When someone has built their entire identity and security around a particular way of seeing the world, challenging that view isn't just presenting new information—it's threatening their very sense of self and the world as they know it. No wonder the defenses rise so quickly!
Beyond Argument: The Compassionate Alternative to Endless Debate
What if there's a more compassionate and effective approach than endless debate? Instead of trying to drag others into our reality, what if we focused on living fully from the truth as we understand it? What if, instead of exhausting ourselves in futile arguments, we directed that energy toward creating the world we want to live in?
This isn't about giving up on communication or connection. It's about recognizing the profound limitations—damage even—of forced conversion. As developmental psychologist Susanne Cook-Greuter says, "Development is an emergent, self-organizing process that cannot be forced. People grow according to their own timetable and their own needs."
We can offer invitations. We can ask genuine questions. We can model a different way of being. But we can’t force someone to see what they're not ready to see any more than we can force a caterpillar to become a butterfly before its time.
©2014. Carla Royal
Standing for Truth Without Starting a Fight: Finding the Balance
Let me be clear—this perspective doesn't mean being passive in the face of harmful beliefs or actions. Understanding different realities doesn't mean we step back from standing for justice or speaking truth to power when necessary.
The reality gap isn't just about innocent differences in perception. It's also about who has the power to shape collective narratives. When those with platforms and influence promote worldviews that harm vulnerable communities, understanding their perspective doesn't mean accepting or enabling the harm they cause.
We can firmly stand for what's true and just while still recognizing that the person across from us is viewing reality through their own particular lens. This isn't about saying 'everything is relative'—it's practical wisdom. We're more effective when we understand the ground we're standing on.
The Power of Curiosity: Practices That Create Connection Across Divides
In practice, this might look like:
Getting curious and asking questions instead of delivering lectures
Sharing your own story rather than making sweeping claims
Creating spaces where different perspectives can be explored without fear
Knowing when someone just isn't ready to see what you see—and respecting where they are without abandoning your own truth
Taking action to protect those being harmed, regardless of whether everyone agrees with your assessment
Neuropsychologist Iain McGilchrist suggests that our culture has become dominated by a fragmented, analytical way of seeing that loses sight of the interconnected whole. Maybe what we're seeing isn't just people failing to understand each other but something bigger—a shared struggle in how we all make sense of the world.
If that's true, then the most revolutionary act might not be converting others to our view but cultivating a more integrated way of seeing—one that can hold paradox, embrace complexity, and recognize that none of us has access to complete truth.
Walking Your Own Path: Holding Your Truth While Respecting Others' Journeys
I've learned to hold my beliefs more lightly. To remember there's so much I can't see. To question what I think I know while still having the courage to act from my deepest values.
I say I've "learned" these things, but the truth is I'm still learning them, still practicing them imperfectly. There are days when I fail completely—when I get so angry at those who can't see what seems obvious to me, when I feel desperate to make others understand. I'm human. I struggle—often deeply.
I keep trying. When I meet someone whose reality seems nothing like mine, I try to get curious: What might they be seeing that I'm missing? What experiences have shaped how they see the world?
This doesn't mean I abandon my own truth or my commitment to justice. It means I stay curious while standing firm. When we stop fighting so hard to prove we're right, we create space for new insights to emerge.
I'll keep walking my path, guided by the truth as I currently understand it, expecting my understanding to evolve, while extending compassion to those on different journeys. And I'll remember that none of us sees the whole elephant—we're all just doing our best to make sense of the piece we can touch.
I wonder what might change for you if you loosened your grip just a little on needing others to see what you see while still holding tight to what matters most? What might open up in your life and relationships?