The unbearable perception of being
People are selfish, which is only to be expected. We see the world from our own perspective, after all, a point of view that makes the self-centered approach to life more sensible than any other. I periodically notice this sort of attitude in myself. I often fail to even fully understand the humanity of other people as I deal with them throughout the day. Since I look out at my environment from behind my own eyes, I tend not to even recognize that other people are doing the same, that behind their eyes lie personalities just as vibrant, thoughts just as complex, desires just as illogical, and emotions just as intense and hidden as my own. Sometimes, though, I do notice:
- It happens when I see someone engaged in a solitary activity, focusing on their task to the exclusion of the rest of the world. I see this most often in children, who frequently become absorbed in such affairs as chasing grasshoppers, drawing doodles, exploring their own fingers, and singing silly songs.
- It happens when I see someone speaking earnestly about something that holds no interest for me and has nothing to do with my own life. I vividly remember a man I met in college explaining to me his passion for model electric trains. His basement housed an elaborate network of tracks, controls, and beautiful scenery for the benefit of his trains. I didn't understand the purpose of it all, and I still don't, but his zeal drove home for me the point that he existed entirely apart from me and my perception of the world.
- It happens when I see someone startled out of their self-consciousness. I remember walking along a street in Austin behind three Asian men speaking an Asian language to each other. As they passed the gate to an apartment complex's parking lot, it issued a loud noise and began swinging open. The man closest to the gate yelped, jumped, and flailed his limbs about. I saw the startled look in his eyes, which turned almost immediately into recognition and laughter. For that instant, he forgot about the "proper" way to stand, speak, and relate to other people. And for that instant, so did I.
Mrs. Happy and I visited a local eatery last night. We sat and talked, unwinding from a day that was pretty tense for both of us, enjoying the food and each other's company. There came a lull in our conversation. Neither of us said a word for several minutes, then she looked at me and said, with a disgusted expression, "What is it with people wearing things across their butts?" I had no idea what she was talking about. Furthermore, the fact that I had no idea what she was talking about made me wonder whether a question that begins with the words "what is it with" really makes any sense at all. I was trying to decipher the meaning and hopefully the etymology of those four words when I responded by saying quite seriously, "I don't know. What. Is. It. With. That."
Neither of us knew what to say, so she said, "What is it, indeed… with that." We stared at each other for a beat, then burst out laughing. We kept laughing for a long while. When we both stopped, I looked across the table at her. She was still glowing from the laughter. And she was an individual, complete with a vibrant personality, complex thoughts, illogical desires, intense emotions, and an all-encompassing sense of being. Every day I tell her that she's beautiful and I love her. Every week I tell her that she's "such a person."
My periodic realization of individuality in other people always surprises me. My periodic recognition of my wife's humanity overwhelms me, and I thank God for that.
I told a bunch of people just yesterday that I usually update this blog by 7:00 p.m. Eastern time, and here I am already late. My excuse is that I had to play tennis with my wife before darkness fell. We played one set, which she won, of course. But I won two games and took a third to three deuces. I'm getting much better.
