How a small shift in perspective can transform ordinary moments into quiet revelations

The other day, I watched a child staring at a puddle in the park. To me, it was simply leftover water from last night’s rain—a nuisance waiting to soil his clothes. When I asked him to step away, he looked up at me with wide-eyed wonder and said it was an ocean—and that he could see the sky reflected in it. In that brief moment, I realized how often we see the world through a fixed lens, assuming that what is “ordinary” for us is also ordinary for life.

That is the essence of reframing. It is the gentle art of seeing differently—not by denying reality or sugar-coating difficulty, but by choosing a perspective that opens possibilities instead of closing doors. A misstep at work can feel like the world has closed its doors. Seen differently, it becomes a masterclass in patience, resilience, and insight. A disagreement in a relationship can feel like a wall. Reframed, it is a doorway to understanding.

I have found that reframing often begins with a simple question: What if I am seeing only one side of this story? What am I missing?
It demands humility, a pause, and the courage to admit that our first interpretation might be incomplete—or even wrong.

Sometimes, the shift is subtle. I remember one evening, frustrated after a long day, I accidentally spilled tea on my notebook. My first instinct was irritation—but then I noticed the pattern the tea had made, like a tiny watercolour painting I hadn’t meant to create. I smiled, realizing how small moments could contain their own magic if I only allowed myself to see it.

Other times, the shift is profound. A few months ago, after a tense conversation with a close friend, I replayed our exchange in my mind. As I reflected, I began to notice my own assumptions, my expectations, and the stories I had projected onto the moment. It was uncomfortable, but it revealed truths about myself I might never have seen otherwise—my pride, my fear, my need to be right. Each glimpse reminded me that reality is not fixed. It is alive, flexible, waiting for the eye that chooses to see.

To practice reframing, I try this small exercise: when a situation triggers frustration, anger, or sadness, I pause and ask:

• Is there another angle I am not seeing?
• How might someone I respect interpret this differently?
• Could this challenge contain a hidden opportunity?

Life does not hand us a single lens. We are gifted a kaleidoscope, and the art lies in rotating it, seeing patterns where we thought there were none, and finding light even in familiar shadows.

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Letters for the Inner Journey by Pushkar