It feels real to both of us
Sometimes I catch myself getting worked up because someone cannot see something that feels obvious to me. I have thought about it. I can explain my reasons. In my head, it makes sense. So why can’t they see it?
But the person sitting across from me may be asking exactly the same question. Their opinion feels real to them too. They are not necessarily pretending. They may be just as certain that I am the one missing something.
A football argument made me think
I am a Messi fan. When I think about what makes a footballer great, I think about his playmaking, the way he influences a game, his achievements and that World Cup. To me, the case feels clear. Even when the conversation turns to goals, I want to talk about goals in relation to games played, rather than only the total.
Then I hear a Ronaldo fan argue with just as much passion. I can lay out everything I find convincing and still fail to move them. What carries the most weight for me may not carry the most weight for them. We can watch the same game and come away holding on to different things.
That is where the argument becomes interesting to me. I start wondering how much of this happens everywhere else in life. How often am I expecting my reasons to produce my exact experience of certainty in somebody else?
Who decides what becomes the truth?
I think society plays a part in this. When enough people agree on an idea, it can begin to feel settled. We grow up around certain beliefs, hear them repeated and learn what we are expected to accept. Sometimes agreement becomes so familiar that we stop asking how we arrived at it.
But imagine a society where people feel free to say what they actually believe. Where someone can hold their own understanding without having to perform agreement just to belong. How much disagreement would we discover underneath the agreement we currently see?
This leaves me with a question: when I say someone has a right to their truth, can I make room for what feels true to them while still questioning it? A belief can feel completely convincing and still be mistaken. That possibility applies to me too.
Agreement is not the same as seeing
I can keep arguing until a person gets tired. I can put pressure on them until they say, “Fine, you’re right.” But what have I actually achieved if, inside, they still see things exactly as they did before?
I may have obtained agreement without creating understanding. I cannot force someone to experience an idea the way I experience it. I can explain, listen and offer reasons. Whether those reasons change how they see things is something I cannot simply command.
The other side has a history
The way I think has a history. My environment, the people around me and the experiences I have had all contribute to what feels reasonable to me now. Another person has lived through a different set of things. I meet their opinion, but I do not automatically know the whole life behind it.
So I am learning to ask what I might be missing about the person, as well as what I think is wrong with their argument. What have they seen? What matters to them? Why does this particular idea hold so much weight?
Since I started considering that, I have found more peace. I still have strong opinions. I still want to explain them well. But I feel less need to make every disagreement end with the other person seeing the world through my eyes.
I know how real my own perspective feels. I am trying to remember that there is someone on the other side who feels that too.