The Spinning Dancer Paradox: An Argument for Humility

I’ve always loved optical illusions and dual or ambiguous images. On the surface, they’re just flat-out cool. Who thought that up? How the heck does it work? Why can’t I control my response to it? Examined more deeply, they also challenge the certainty of our perceptions—and the validity of the claims we make from those perceptions.

My aunt Diane recently forwarded one such shifting image, that of a spinning dancer.[1] At first look for me, the dancer spins over her right shoulder—clockwise if looking down from above—with her left foot holding contact with the ground. With a little internet investigation, I read that others could see her spinning counter-clockwise, over her left shoulder with the right foot holding contact with the ground, but I wasn’t buying it. The dancer obviously was turning to the right. Her whole head tipped that way. Her right leg was leading her around. I simply could not see the reverse.

As I dug a little further into this spinning dancer’s history, I found another example of the same phenomenon: a spinning cat.[2] (The dancer’s pet, perhaps? Their household either loves getting dizzy or they’re seasoned Dervishes.) With this image as well, I easily saw the cat turning to the right. Again, I didn’t get how anyone could see differently.

Frustrated that I would never see the secret and get inside the joke, I went to close my browser and give up on the task. Just as I moved the cursor to close my window, though, I noticed in my peripheral vision—no longer looking at the image directly—that the cat started spinning to the left! I returned my focus to the cat and, confoundingly, he switched immediately back, once more spinning to the right. I tried the new trick again, relaxing my focus away from the cat. Sure enough, I could ‘get’ him to spin to the left. After a few tries of s..l..o..w..l..y bringing my visual attention back to the cat directly, I could even hold the perspective that he was turning to the left. Ha ha! The clouds had lifted! My felines had shifted!

When I returned to the lovely spinning dancer, the same technique worked there as well. A casual–some might even say coy–glance away to put her in my peripheral vision and she started to spin to the left. Some have suggested that the direction we see demonstrates our left-brain or right-brain dominance, but that’s a spurious claim that often accompanies the image. It’s not a hemispheric test; it’s a multistable image. What matters most, apparently, is whether we perceive ourselves as above or below the dancer. Some can activate the swing in perception by focusing on her feet or on the shadow below her.[3] Others can alternate by closing their eyes and “seeing” the dancer spin one way or the other—the expectation then creates the experience.

And that’s where this spinning dancer became more than an optical illusion for me. She’s a powerful example of the nature of reality—and of our limited ability to perceive that reality. When I first approached the image, I could only see it one way. I couldn’t imagine any other and I would have argued vociferously to defend that view. Unfortunately, the sharp edge of that certainty would have cut me off from seeing any other perspective. Now that I’ve looked more deeply and more openly, I get that more, equally valuable interpretations exist. Her “true” motion remains a mystery, or at minimum, a paradox. She moves in both directions…at the same time.

How often do we claim such certainty in political and religious discussions when the truth is more nuanced? In her book Encountering God: A Spiritual Journey from Bozeman to Banares, Harvard professor of Comparative Religion and Indian Studies Diana Eck articulates a helpful taxonomy of approaches to religion.

Exclusivists, she says, believe that they have the one, true answer to religious understanding: My faith is right; yours is wrong. Inclusivists believe they’re uniquely right but acknowledge that other traditions include some goodness: My faith is right; yours is a good start but eventually you’ll realize that mine’s better. Pluralists still believe their own faith, but they also recognize that any claims about ultimate mystery are best tempered with humility: I think my faith is right, but I know that I can’t see the whole of Truth. The same is true for you and your tradition. What kind of insight could we find in conversation with each other? Which of these approaches you espouse, as always, depends on—and then further creates—your world view.

In my mind, the spinning dancer phenomenon makes a compelling case for pluralism. One introduced to Christianity might look into the great mystery of life and find a Jesus ‘spin.’ Another raised on materialism might come away from the investigation seeing a reversed, atheist arc. Both could serve as valid interpretations. Both depend on the prejudices and preconceptions of the perceiver. Reality, like vision, is a participatory process not a static reflection. The ‘spinning dancer’ of great mystery doesn’t necessarily change. We do.[4] Naïve observers will see their faith as the obvious explanation of what’s real and will perhaps defend that perception to the death. A well-trained and open-minded eye, on the other hand, learns to bounce back and forth between various models—and experiences—of the world. That bouncing in itself, a recognition of multiple parts to a larger paradoxical ‘Truth’, would in turn generate even greater insights.

One can still stick with a preferred spin, of course. We need a home base. But that preference need not deny the deeper, pluralistic truth. The dance of life moves in infinite—and simultaneous—directions.

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For other fascinating optical illusions—and more potential insights for life—check out this fun website: 99 Cool Optical Phenomena.