What Frankenstein taught me about seeing the world with beginner's eyes
When was the last time you saw the world with beginner’s eyes? Or the last time you experienced a childlike emotion? That sense of profound wonder: seeing a park for the first time, tasting ice cream, or simply lost in a game.
Placing Frankenstein, or Frankenstein’s creature, side by side with such an emotion is quite a contrast. This contrast is even sharper given his grotesque depiction. Despite his appearance and the fact that he never had a childhood, he still felt these tender emotions. He once saw the world with eyes that lacked preconceptions or malice.
I was fascinated by his perspective, by how much colorful and captivating the world was through his eyes. But where do those eyes exist in our lives? Are they forever lost to us, eyes that may lack depth, but see what other people can’t?
Has our time and experience made us blind to other ways to see the world?
What can the creature teach us about how we look at what surrounds us?
Can we see the world again for the first time?
(Note: even though I’m talking about the experience of Frankenstein’s creature in the book, there are no spoilers whatsoever about the book).
The fresh eyes of Frankenstein’s creature
These last weeks I’ve been diving into the world of Frankenstein, by Mary Shelly. One of the things I found most eye-catching was the beginner’s eyes of the creature. Life has been given to him; he has to get used to the sea of stimuli coming from all his senses and how new everything is; then he develops the ability to think and contrast aspects of the world.
When we see through the eyes of this so-called demon, we know exactly how to interpret what he sees, even if he doesn’t. We are part of this world; we know how conventions work. However, what I think you would find refreshing is his bewilderment and genuine curiosity for what he is experiencing. Frankenstein’s creature looks at the world with no prejudice, no experience, childlike.
His world is a blender of blurry sensations, but then he discovers he can taste, see, hear, and all of that is different! How impressed he was with fire, even though he lacked the ability to replicate it. He also discovered language and the fact that we can name things, even if he couldn’t discern the meaning of words. There were even words humans used to call one another! He was intelligent, but had no experience. The dullest and most common of events was a captivating festival that lasted hours, and when it was over, the memory of it lasted for several more hours of reflection.
When was the last time you felt such fascination for something? It’s the same world you and I live in, my friend! But the creature has beginner’s eyes.
An evil we would never discover
The more we live, the more our ability to look at the world with beginner’s eyes rusts. The inexperience of Frankenstein’s creature opened my eyes to objects that spark no interest at first sight. But why did this not happen before? The birds were already there; the flowers of my garden did not grow suddenly.
I’d dare say that we are rather lazy, my friend. I think of it as a human trait: we like to save our energy. So, why question something that just works, or we already think we know? Oh, we get to know so much of how the world works, about our particular field; we get so used to how we see what happens, how we feel, the reasons behind all of it. We don’t question what we think we know. Do you, my friend?
However, where would that leave our experience? Confined to a corner when there is so much to see? What’s more, if we have a limiting view of how things are, if we have a view of the world that afflicts us, or if we’ve only known pain, we will be limited, be afflicted, or only see pain. Wouldn’t you rather change that?
This evil, being blind to so many colors, ideas, and perspectives, could have been completely ignored. As time goes on, we inevitably gain more experience. We go further and further in a particular way of living. It’s harder to break the momentum. But what if we could get hold of those beginner’s eyes for a second? What if we could see the world anew, while we retain our precious knowledge?
What does having beginner’s eyes mean?
Looking at the world with fresh eyes implies putting our experience, judgement, and our knowledge aside. I hear you objecting; we have worked so hard for this understanding; we had to go through many things to get to this point; how are we to just ignore our instinct? Does it mean we are wrong?
I would be as alarmed if someone tried to get us to give up what is in our heads, my friend. However, putting on beginner’s eyes is like putting on glasses; you can take them on and off as needed. Our new pair of eyes doesn’t imply that we are in the wrong. In the worst case, we may find new colors, better ways to act and think, and adjust our own if necessary.
Having beginner’s eyes requires certain quiet in our heads and attention. You know you have these eyes when you don’t jump immediately to say four when asked what two plus two is, even if you thought the answer. You look at objects and look at their details, and even when it gets boring, you keep looking at them. I never knew my front house door had 6 bars, and when you think of it, it seems embarrassing not knowing something about an object I look at every single day. It makes me wonder what else we are missing, my friend? Certainly there are some of them irrelevant, but how many are not?
You are not foreign to the idea. Remember a time when you asked another person for their opinion, or you were that person for someone else. Either way, the other person serves as fresh eyes capable of noticing what the other side may not. One of the most delightful parts of human interaction is that we get to see through the eyes of the other. They are not pristine like Frankenstein’s creature, but tainted with colors and perspectives of their own. We can observe and try to understand them with fresh eyes. What to take or leave from these encounters is up to us.
Look for the opportunity to use your beginner’s eyes.
Frankenstein is a beautiful book, way longer than I expected, and filled with a wide range of emotions I couldn’t predict. One of the most prominent takeaways from the book is the creature’s eyes, its beginner’s eyes. When I think back to its excitement for things that seemed so common, I couldn’t help but bring this question: when was the last time we felt such fascination?
The more we live, the harder it is to put on these eyes. However, we can revert this by the same means as any other skill: we practice.
I want us to have beginner’s eyes. How can we be sure to enjoy the extraordinary, or anything that may be our goal, if we don’t relish what we have at hand now? There are plenty of trivial situations to put our eyes on. I want us to be able to enjoy common objects we see every day, the sounds of the birds, and never overlook the smell of fresh coffee or black tea.
Explore other people’s eyes, but be mindful of what you take for yourself.
I don’t want you to think our new eyes will only serve for pleasure. They are an opportunity to see what we would generally disregard, to enrich our minds, to explore emotions beyond what we’ve encountered. What if the solution to the problem lies in an already discarded solution? Or somewhere in front of our noses?
It’s impossible to see the world again for the first time, but that doesn’t mean we can't look at it with curious and open eyes.
I failed to see those six bars, even if I saw them every day. I don’t want you to miss anything.
