Mayo

I detest mayonnaise.  I hate the sight of it, the smell of it and the taste of it.  Put mayonnaise anywhere near me and I want to gag.

Perhaps you like the taste of mayonnaise.  Afterall, some people enjoy slathering that white greasy condiment on their sandwich. Perhaps you, like some others I know, enjoy a heaping spoonful of it plopped into your tuna, chicken, or potatoes to create a ‘salad’.

Which brings me to the topic of this blog . . . isn’t it interesting that the identical food tastes so differently to you and to me? The mayonnaise I refuse to eat is exactly the same mayonnaise that you enjoy. The exact same emulsion of eggs and oil, seasoned in exactly the same way, tastes very different to me than it tastes to you.  Objectively, our mayo is identical. We see, taste, and smell the same stuff. Subjectively, our experience of mayo is worlds apart.  What we eat is the same.  How it tastes is different.

Maybe we’re wired differently.  There may be a genetic component to our different tastes. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that my sister and my daughter hate mayonnaise almost as much as I.  Strangely, despite the potential for marital tension, each of us have spouses who enjoy mayonnaise. For mayo to be allowed in my house, the understanding is that it must be kept out of sight, in the back of the fridge.

If it’s true that you and I taste foods differently . . . and it is . . .  isn’t it just as likely that some of our other sensory experiences are different?  What we feel, what we hear, and what we see might be the same. But how we feel, how we see, and how we hear might be very different.

I happen not to like the feel of silk or silky fabrics. If I snag a nail or piece of dry skin on silk, I get the heebie-jeebies. However, there are others who luxuriate in the feel of silk.  I’m oblivious to the presence of tags and labels in my clothes, but there are some who can’t stand that sensation. Even though objectively what we touch, or are touched by, is exactly the same, subjectively how we experience it is quite different.

Not only genetics but learning and experience determines how we perceive.  You and I and a trained musician may listen to the same piece of music, but I’ll bet that how we hear the music is quite different. You and I and a poet may listen to the identical poem, read by the identical person, at the identical time, but how we hear the poem will not be the same.

Who knows if your red is the same as my red, your blue the same as mine?  And just like with the musician and the poet, I’m sure that if you and I and an artist looked at an identical picture, we would all see it in our own unique way.

I've studied psychology.  I've practiced psychiatry.  And yet, I barely understand what is it like to be you.