Always, we're stuck in our own self. All we see, hear, understand, compute is enmeshed in the being of ourselves. We cannot get outside this bone-cage skull nor look from eyes other than our own. Even the act of imagining is invested in the neuronal activity of this brain, this flesh, this person, this me.
And how often are we brave enough to allow someone else access? I mean, say that you have a meeting with someone and you think, 'Oh no, but it'll take me 90 minutes to get there and 90 minutes to get home. That's three hours. Three hours! My God! And then I'll be there... how long? Two hours maybe. And because it's at noon I need to have food with me and water. I can't stop on the way or on the way back - there's virus everywhere. Oh yes and we have to stay apart and it's going to rain. So what's the point? Five hours. I could be reading or writing. I could be playing with the cats. Shut up, Wuji, I can't play with you now. I'm thinking. Where was I? Oh yes, I could be playing with the cats or doing Joe Wicks. Maybe I should do an extra workout now instead? No, it's too late. But I can't tomorrow now because.... Well, maybe I'll say, "Look, it's raining and I'm thinking of you - I mean, I don't mind the rain, but you." Maybe she'll do a zoom meeting instead. That'll only take an hour.'
So, yes, I did that, and she said, 'No, it's been way too long! See you at high noon!' And I said, 'Brilliant! I'll be there.'
***
I remember one Sunday lunch when my nephew, whom my mother very dearly loved, was teasing her. It was a joke, but his jokes were quite pointed, a little harsh. Though he is a good and lovely person - just maybe a little lacking at that age in empathy. She smiled and the smile did reach her eyes but there was another message in her eyes, as well as love and good humoured acceptance of mockery. There was pain. A vulnerability. Maybe I coloured my interpretation of her expression with my own reaction to the joke, which I thought was a little cruel. I don't think so. I remembered having seen the same look in the eyes of her brother. My mother, I know, for we spoke about it, accepted that she was being mocked and that something one could find fault with was being exposed. Something she was a little ashamed of, or guilty about, but also felt was perhaps just 'part of her nature'. In short, the joke was illuminating a little personal failing of which she was aware but perhaps would prefer was not brought to the attention of a laughing group who seemed to enjoy laughing at a little more than laughing with. It's hard to express such subtleties in language - but the eyes said it all. It was a glimpse into vulnerability and love.
There was an occasion at Oxford when I saw a friend I'd been somewhat disregarding through the window of her basement room. She was at her desk, bent over a book. We were both revising for our Finals. She was alone and focused on her work. I didn't see her face. I have no idea what she was thinking or feeling. but something in the sight reminded me of the all the reasons why my then antipathy for her was ill-grounded. Sure, there were things that annoyed me, but she was, and is, a wonderful, loyal, caring and genuine friend. What's more, I knew that she often felt unfairly ignored, defensive and fragile, due to the occasionally callous treatment of others.
These momentary insights into our shared, flawed, hurt, well-intentioned and courageous humanity are precious.
You only notice if you look up, the hanging branch, damaged and half-dead. You only notice if you look up the canopy of leaves filtering emerald light and providing life and sustenance to the tree and to us. But we don't look up often enough, we don't look inside others often enough - and we are so intensely protective of our own painful flaws and shuddering love.
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