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How do fixed opinions make life smaller?

Your neighbour invites you to hear her amateur singing group. You nearly say no. You have heard a recording, and the singing was uneven. An evening of people doing something badly sounds embarrassing.

You are entitled to dislike the sound. The opinion becomes limiting when it seems to tell you everything worth knowing about the evening, including why anyone would take part. There is no reason to attend, no question to ask and nothing further to discover. A judgment about the singing has decided the value of a whole experience.

A Spark from This Is My Life

A narrow mind blinds you to life's beauty, Makes you see your world in black and white, With fixed opinions on what is wrong and what is right.

In The bigger world, the poem’s speaker connects fixed opinions with missing life’s beauty. Other people see things differently, and those differences belong to a world larger than any one person’s view. A narrow judgment costs more than information. It can keep us from enjoying or understanding something we have already dismissed.

Suppose you go because you like your neighbour. The singing is still uneven. No unexpected talent appears to rescue the evening and prove your taste wrong. But you see something the recording did not explain: one singer helping another find the starting note, people laughing over a missed entrance, the pleasure of finally getting a difficult passage together.

You ask your neighbour what she likes about the group. She tells you that most of her week is spent doing things alone. Here she has to listen closely to other people, and they have to listen to her. Singing well matters to them; so does having a place where learning together is welcome.

You may still prefer to spend your own evening elsewhere. You have nevertheless learned why this evening matters to someone you know. “I don’t enjoy that kind of singing” can now coexist with respect for what the group is doing. The difference in taste no longer requires you to find the whole activity foolish.

Fixed opinions can prevent precisely this kind of discovery. If you always decline, you never encounter the part your opinion left out. The absence of an interesting experience then seems to confirm that there was nothing interesting to find. Meanwhile, your neighbour learns not to invite you or talk much about an important part of her week.

The narrowing can become personal too. If doing something imperfectly in public is always embarrassing, where will you allow yourself to be a beginner? An opinion first directed at other people may rule out a pleasure you have not tried. You need not become a singer to notice how many activities demand some willingness to be seen learning.

There are limits to what openness asks of you. Understanding why people enjoy an activity does not require accepting cruelty within it. If the group humiliates one member, that conduct can deserve a firm objection even after you understand the group’s attractions. Paying attention should make judgment better informed, not make it impossible.

You can begin more simply than revising your beliefs about the world. When someone enjoys something you dismiss, ask what they find in it. Give their answer enough attention to discover whether your opinion covered the experience they are actually having.

AI-generated from Innocent Mwatsikesimbe's writing.

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