What You Think About Me
...is none of my business; CORRECTION: is all of our business
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Based on a true story…
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Back then, if you looked out past the stream and past the aspen trees, you would have seen elk grazing in the distant meadow. Elk that ran through this area freely and sustained the people who lived here, back then. The people who, back then, would gather around the council rock to discuss regional news and resolve the issues between them. These were the people who were displaced by another people who looked upon them as other people.
Other. It’s a funny word, other is. Or is it another? I don’t know. Let’s look it up. Will you hand me the dictionary, please? On the shelf there by the window.
Yes, thank you.
Ah, here it is. Page 337.
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Other /ŭᴛʜ′ər/ [adjective]
1. One of several that is different and not included.
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Yes. That’s right.
The people who gathered around the council rock were displaced by another people who saw them as an other. An other species entirely. Savages, they called them. An other species entirely.
Or is it another? I don’t know. Let’s look it up.
There, right in the middle of page 194.
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Another /ə-nŭᴛʜ′ər/ [adjective]
1. One more; an additional.
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I believe that I have written it correctly.
The people who arrived by boat onto this land where the elk grazed beyond the aspen trees, were another people; additional to the people who had lived here and gathered around the council rock for generations. These people who arrived by boat looked upon the people who had lived here and gathered around the council rock for generations not as another people, but as an other people; a people that were different and therefore not to be included.
When one chooses to not include another into their group, they place space between themselves and the other.
Another becomes An Other.
Let’s look at this space between the letter N and the letter O more closely. Don’t be afraid. What do you suppose creates this need for space from the other; the impetus to turn another into an other? When you look into that space, that separation, what do you see?
Perhaps a brief story might help.
I once heard of a young man who when he came to proper courting age refused to make the acquaintance of any promising young ladies in his small town. Having been orphaned at a very young age, he was raised in an orphanage of all boys. When he grew to school age, he attended a boarding school of all boys until he reached manhood. He never had the opportunity to be in proximity to people not of his gender. Young ladies frightened him and the prospect of being close to one of them gave him nightmares. The young ladies were so strange to him and different from the boys he was familiar with. His unfamiliarity with girls kept him from getting to know any young lady. He did not know what he was missing. His fear consumed him and drove his decision making. So, he made every effort to avoid them. He ensured that he left ample space between himself and any one of the people of the opposite gender. He went out of his way to keep his distance. For him, another person, because of her gender, became an other.
Do you see any fear in that distance between the N and the O?
Let’s continue our story, shall we?
After several years passed, this young man, now in middle-age, took up a correspondence with a person inquiring for some advice on a financial matter of which our now middle-aged man was expert. After several months went by our now middle-aged man took a gentlemanly fondness to his correspondent finding many similarities and agreements between them. He concluded that this correspondent was another fine gentleman indeed. So, when the opportunity arose to meet in person for lunch, our now middle-aged man jumped at the chance to strengthen the collegial bond he developed through their writing. He arrived early at the restaurant eager to ensure that all the details for a successful meeting would be in order. He sat facing the entrance to the restaurant and waited. He waited right up to the minute of their scheduled luncheon, but no one arrived other than an elegantly dressed woman. Confusion turned into a flash of fear as the maître d’ escorted the woman to his table and introduced her as the guest he had been waiting for.
“Why the expression on your face is one of sheer terror!” she said to our middle-aged man. “Have I offended you in any way?”
“No,” he replied with a gasp.
“Then, what is it?” she pressed.
“I… I have… er… I have never spoken with a woman before,” he stammered.
She laughed and replied, “But you have written to one all these months, who you acknowledge shares your interests and world view. That person is me who sits before you, and no other.”
In the course of their meeting, he recalled how many similarities they shared which far outnumbered the single difference of their gender. He worked hard and calmed his fear enough to recognize her for who she truly was. She was simply another person. Another person whom he was already acquainted. She was no longer an other.
When you look between the N and the O, you see the fear of the unfamiliar of the things not yet known. Don’t you?
This is the same fear felt by the people who arrived by boat onto the land where the elk grazed beyond the aspen trees. When these people who arrived by boat met the people who had lived here and gathered around the council rock for generations, they felt the fear of what they did not yet know. In their fear they created distance. Their fear was so great and their unwillingness to calm that fear drove the people who arrived by boat to forcibly remove the people who lived here for generations from their land among the aspen trees, the elk, and their council rock. Once removed, the people who arrived by boat took up all the space for themselves and left no room for any other.
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Today, when you look out past the stream, you’ll see a housing development called Aspen Shadows in the place where the aspen once stood. The street leading to the houses is called Elk Run, but no elk run through the area now. There is no longer any rock around which to gather in council with members of the town now named Council Rock.
All of this is to say that what you think about me matters. The words you use to describe what you think about me carry deep meaning. If you think of me as another, you will welcome me. If you think of me as an other, someone different, someone unknown, you will distance yourself from me. You might fear the things you don’t know about me. If your fear is strong enough, you might try to hurt me after imagining that I might try to hurt you first. The result is separation and a cruel unknowing of what might be possible in knowing one another.
It doesn’t have to end this way though. The opposite of unknown is familiar. Familiar is an interesting word. Isn’t it?
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Familiar /fə-mĭl′yər/ [adjective]
1. closely acquainted; intimate
2. of relating to a family
3. frequently seen or experienced; easily recognized
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It’s not far-fetched to write that every person is a member of the human family. By that account and by definition then, we are familiar. We are easily recognized as people, yes? We are frequently seen and experienced as people, yes? And while you and I may not yet be personally acquainted, we could use the familiarity we do share to inspire us in finding mutual understanding beyond the minor differences that will naturally exist. Familiar is the way I hope you’ll think of me and everyone you encounter today. Will you choose to recognize me as another, or will you only see me as an other?
