"You have the most... umm... diverse social connections," Lucas told me as I shared about my day. Sure, there's the lady my mom's age I met who now has taught me to knit. Then there's my little five-year old buddy who brightens my week. There are my Middle Eastern ladies with whom I enjoy seeing and getting know their culture more. There are all my friends suffering from dementia at the retirement home. There are the adult learners who access services at the literacy centre. There are the at-risk teenagers with whom I try to connect with. There are the families living in poverty and fighting to escape it. There's my friend I met through baseball. Simply put, I see people in a variety of contexts; it'd be quite difficult to pin down my "group."
And I like that. Most days. Sometimes, I hate it, but usually I like that.
I like spending time with people so different from myself. I enjoy finding points of connection from the strangest experiences. I enjoy trying come up with a variety of conversation topics and learning that at the base, at the foundation, of all these things we see and all these categories we use to classify people, at the base of all of that... we're just so human. The human-ness is so real, and so raw, and so different, yet so the same.
I'm reminded of how similar I am or how closely my life would resemble theirs if not for a few fortunate changed events. I can see life in Guelph through their eyes, or at least I can ask how it is, and try to understand. I learn to understand social interactions differently, not constantly seeing the government, the cops, social assistance, church, friends and family through the same lens. I'm challenged to not be bird that flocks with those of my own feathers.
And then other days, it's the most lonely experience. I cry out for like-minded community and I thirst for people with similar life experiences, world views and perspectives on life. I crave the comfort that comes from familiarity and I want the ease associated with sameness. And though I believe balance is healthy and necessary, simply reading the previous sentences reminds me why I fight so hard to engage with those of different backgrounds.
I don't want my choices to be driven by ease. I don't want comfort to be a deciding factor.
And I like that. Most days. Sometimes, I hate it, but usually I like that.
I like spending time with people so different from myself. I enjoy finding points of connection from the strangest experiences. I enjoy trying come up with a variety of conversation topics and learning that at the base, at the foundation, of all these things we see and all these categories we use to classify people, at the base of all of that... we're just so human. The human-ness is so real, and so raw, and so different, yet so the same.
I'm reminded of how similar I am or how closely my life would resemble theirs if not for a few fortunate changed events. I can see life in Guelph through their eyes, or at least I can ask how it is, and try to understand. I learn to understand social interactions differently, not constantly seeing the government, the cops, social assistance, church, friends and family through the same lens. I'm challenged to not be bird that flocks with those of my own feathers.
And then other days, it's the most lonely experience. I cry out for like-minded community and I thirst for people with similar life experiences, world views and perspectives on life. I crave the comfort that comes from familiarity and I want the ease associated with sameness. And though I believe balance is healthy and necessary, simply reading the previous sentences reminds me why I fight so hard to engage with those of different backgrounds.
I don't want my choices to be driven by ease. I don't want comfort to be a deciding factor.
No comments:
Post a Comment