This did not start as a blog post, it was supposed to be a Facebook comment about the article I have linked to below. I ended up having more than a comment, so I am posting it here. Possibly just because I want to hear myself to see if I truly make sense.
I just read a New York Times article and these words that I disagree with grabbed me.
~the kind of accelerated intimacy I remembered from summer camp, staying up all night with a new friend, exchanging the details of our short lives. At 13, away from home for the first time, it felt natural to get to know someone quickly. But rarely does adult life present us with such circumstances.~
This is where I disagree with the writer. I think adult life presents us with these circumstances whenever we choose to cast aside inanities and jump headfirst into authentic conversation during which we share…HEAVEN FORBID!! about ourselves and listen….omg! isn’t that even scarier? to another person do the same. It happens when we allow ourselves to be seen as human as we are. When we stop trying to impress, but instead, make an effort to understand life. This is how I have to live. I don’t have a choice. Perhaps it is due to my WOO (from Strengthfinders, but that is another story), whatever the cause, this is how I live.
Perhaps this is the reason I am able to walk into my house and pronounce, “I have a new friend.” and nobody doubts that I do. It is because I want to know you. You. Whomever you are, wherever I meet you. I want to know why you are where you are. I want to know what you are thinking, feeling, and believing. I want to know what you trust, what frightens you, and what makes you burst your sides with laughter. I don’t know that I actually want to know this, I need to know this. Your life has collided with mine so I need to know everything I possibly can about you.
By knowing you my life is expanded past my own limitations. I get to experience and learn through your stories….and hopefully, you will learn from mine. You will understand that, which I have kept hidden, but am now willing to whisper to those who choose to listen, those who choose to learn, those who choose to live. Friends, let’s choose to live.
W.B. Yeats said, “There are no strangers, only friends you have not met yet.”
“There isn’t a person you wouldn’t love, if you could read their story.” (I heard this attributed to Marjorie Pay Hinckley but haven’t been able to verify.)
“I have come to believe that by and large the human family all has the same secrets, which are both very telling and very important to tell. They are telling in the sense that they tell what is perhaps the central paradox of our condition—that what we hunger for perhaps more than anything else is to be known in our full humanness, and yet that is often just what we also fear more than anything else. It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are—even if we tell it only to ourselves—because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing. It is important to tell our secrets too because it makes it easier that way to see where we have been in our lives and where we are going. It also makes it easier for other people to tell us a secret or two of their own, and exchanges like that have a lot to do with what being a family is all about and what being human is all about.”