When a Hat isn't just a Hat

Something that I've been keeping an eye on as a concept can be reflected in one of Èṣù's most popularly told stories.

Perspective and by extension, perception.

Allow me to reiterate the story (I will not be sharing this in the traditional Yorùbá style of story-telling, sorry if that's what you came here for though).

Two friends, thick as thieves, best of friends who grew up together, go to see an Ifá priest to be sure that everything is in order and that they are fine with their farms right next to each other. Ifá says, yes, of course but you must give to Èṣù so that the spirit of cooperation will greet you as you will benefit more when you work together.

The two men leave, happy with their results but as they're talking, they start to think aloud.

"He said to give to Èṣù, but nothing can come between us!"

"Right, we've been best friends for so long! Who is he to tell us that our prospects and friendship should fail if we don't give to Èṣù?"

So what do the two men do? They breeze by the shrine of Èṣù at the town entrance.

The men build their lives up. They have their spouses, are working their farms successfully and live prosperously. They trade goods among themselves so they could have more variety and helped out with the weeding, cleaning, sowing and collecting dried seeds or watering for a while, without disruption. The consultation with the Ifá priest warning them to not forget Èṣù was long forgotten.

But Èṣù is always around and he does not forget.

It's a lovely day and Èṣù starts to pass through the thin path between their farms, immediately remembering what these men were told and what they failed to do. He turned back, resolving to take care of this.

Èṣù returns with a hat, red and black, one color facing each field and singing down the path. The two look up from their fields to see Èṣù strolling on by and singing. Later, when dining with each other and their families, one asks the other if he saw the man with the black hat. The other goes, "I saw him but that was definitely a red hat, what are you blind?"

They go back and forth about this, the argument steadily increasing until it became a fist fight. In their anger with one another, they fail to notice they destroyed their own fields. Their crops were gone. No crops means no food for the family and it definitely means no extras to sell at the market as they have been doing all these years for extra profit and variety.

As a result of the argument and destruction of property, making it a bad year for all, they decide to never speak to each other again. Because they never speak from each other again, they also suffer from the lack of mutual work.

- Ọ́wọ́nrín S'ogbè

In this story, there's the obvious. If the priest says do something, just do it. Just because you have peace now, does not make peace forever. Then there's the element of futility - be serious, was the argument over such a petty detail as the color of a hat on a stranger a long distance away worth the dissolution of an otherwise excellent friendship/partnership and the support they provided to each other?

In the grander scheme of things, one would have to be a plum fool to not attempt to make some kind of peace. But plum fools, people are.

They thought the world of their relationship, believing in their hearts that nothing could tear them from each other. The reality is that, regardless of how strong it was, it was not stronger than their need to be right, nor their anger, and it resulted in ruin.

So what does this have to do with perspective and perception?

The two men got so caught up in hubris that they failed to consider a bigger question: why would I see black when my friend saw red?

Put plainly, reality is some mix of various but many perspectives and every person has their right to their perception. In this instance, neither man was that wrong about the color of the hat. From their position, the hat was indeed one of those colors. It would have only taken another person to see Èṣù's front or back to correct, if not prevent, the argument all together.

Because reality is comprised of various angles, it's probably best to assume that any single individual does not have all around sight of the issue at hand. This doesn't mean go take Larry, Jim, Joe, James' and Bob's opinion just because they said it. After all, not everyone who can speak uses their mouth correctly and not everyone who has a brain uses it thoughtfully. But would it have hurt them to at least be open to hearing the potential of another option and seeing if they could reconcile between what information is currently held and that which is not?

They weren't trying to consider the other's perspective, which set the tone for conflict in their relationship.

Now, back to the title. Why isn't the hat just a hat?

Èṣù's focus wasn't the hat. I don't think it was in challenging the angle by which they address their relationship. The lesson of perspective was a bonus, a means to an end in the process of teaching.

I think what he was addressing was their misconceived perception of themselves. Èṣù is an expert in this field, he already knew that it couldn't just be said. The priest already told that they needed a little extra help staying together. Èṣù simply showed them exactly what was seen by Ifá in a wholly undeniable way. They would be forced to confront where they, as people, lacked in ability to either talk it out or let it go, something the best of friends should have been able to do easily.

Who knew, the trick was in us all along.

Blessings,

From the Lemon Trees