I’m rather good at using maps. But I forgot the maps and here we were, late afternoon, last day of vacation, my daughter, my cousin and I, driving along a two-lane highway in Oregon. No other car in sight, and the sun had just gone down. Where was that sweet little village?

It was supposed to be right along this river. We drove on, farther into the unknown, river always at left as our guide. We kept passing farms and fields and now a few lights were coming out. In my head, I was doing a lot of self-criticisms: Why didn’t we start earlier, bring the map and on and on? My cousin and I were both impatient and stressed. My daughter, at least, was happy in the back seat, text messaging a friend. I pulled up on the shoulder of the road to think.

Just then—WOW! Amazing! A new scene had appeared. Where did it come from?

Right there, out of nowhere: a magical misty landscape. Fields stretched in silent purples, with rows of tall trees, darkening in the dusk. I turned the car engine off. All was silent in the hot summer air. Beside us, a plum-colored river hardly moved between a border of trees, its dark lazy water reflecting the last light of day.

How breathtaking! Where had it been? If I had seen even a bit of this beauty while driving along, I could have stopped and taken a look. I had missed it all.

We miss a lot, almost everything, in fact, in our world. Our task­focused filters(过滤器) take care of that, selecting only what we need. We need to get to work. Have some lunch. We see what we need to see, often for purposes of survival. Gregory Bateson, speaking of beauty, said the judgment is selection of a fact. In our daily lives, who or what is doing the selecting? Can we make a change? Can we see further?

The new radio programme from Self-help expert Glennon Doyle unexpectedly disturbed me. In a session of We Can Do Hard Things, she focuses on boundaries and their importance to our mental happiness. I heartily agree with her, because saying a polite but firm “no” is one of the basics for a happy life. I was, however, interested when she raised the idea that perhaps, as well as learning when to confirm our boundaries, we also need to stretch them. When does a boundary become a cage that locks us away?

Isn’t it always the case that just as you think you’ve got an area of life nailed; somebody comes along to show you that that’s not the case? As I listened, I started to see boundaries that might cause more problems than they were solving.

There was the work boundary that said that unless a project fell exactly into my topics, I wouldn’t take it-which meant that I turned down work that was otherwise interesting and rewarding.

There was the boundary that said I wasn’t to buy anything until I’d reached my savings goal-which resulted in me having to restart my laptop 20 times a day.

And then there was a boundary around relationships that set out exactly how I should be treated and what I wanted in them. Helpful to some extent, it blocked me from allowing someone to express their love for me, even if it wasn’t quite what I had predicted.

Had I been doing boundaries wrong all the time? Did I need to figure them all out again? I’ve spent the past few weeks looking at the boundaries I’ve secretly put in place, and I’ve let myself lower some that have been my protection over the years. Then I’ve come to the conclusion that, when it comes to boundaries, I’m a beginner again, and that’s fine. In fact, being back at the beginning is a blessing because it means there are still lessons to be learned and adventures to be had and that is something for which I can only be grateful.