Before I could walk or talk, I took part in silent rites of passage with every other baby at the grocery store. We all rode sideways, each anchored to our mother’s hip, rotating like periscopes, gathering visual impressions.
We looked at each other’s shoes to size each other up.
This told us everything we needed to know. Looking at someone’s shoes answered the rudimentary question: Same or different?
Of course the ability to discriminate is universal among humans, plants, and animals. In Nature, all entities recognize ourselves as us, and others as them. Even cells in the tissue of our organs notice foreign cells in the vicinity and react. If there is no threat, then the cells go about their normal functions for the good of the whole body. A healthy body is a model of tolerance, cooperation and balance.
Looking at someone’s shoes answered the rudimentary question: Same or Different? And how about the three Rosy Florals above: Same or Different?
Intelligent discrimination is natural. And neutral, unless the interpretation of difference triggers a response that diminishes, disables, and cripples compassion.
With humans, laying eyes on another kid’s shoes is a way of counting coup. It gives the looker an advantage. An intense and intimidating maneuver, it takes a lot of focus to pull it off. There is always the risk of bad timing, premature eye contact, losing your nerve. I caught many infants and toddlers glancing at my shoes and I was game.
I remember staring ‘them’ down to let them know I was going to look at their shoes now. I was unmoved by the fight or flight hormones emitted as they squirmed against Mommy for a better ledge to hide their dangling legs. I was a little ashamed, but too fascinated to repress myself in this preverbal power play.
I caught many infants and toddlers glancing at my shoes and I was game.
By sandbox time, kids instinctively set up a pecking order, jockeying for position on the social ladder. Children who stand out as vulnerable become playground targets of children who sense that their own social survival depends on minimizing someone, anyone.
If we are lucky, our parents have the time and energy to play with us and we learn to give and take, win and lose, catch and release. Tolerate, cooperate, balance.
But many grownups are unable to model tolerance for their children, because they never experienced it themselves. They haven't recovered from early cruelty, so they have no compassion to pass on.
I grew up in the suburbs of mid-century midwest America. We were good sports, followed the rules, knew the boundaries. When I arrived in California for college, I thought it might be a hoot to go with some friends for a session with an Aura Reader.
In her living room she waved us toward worn out couches. On her side table was a large sketch pad with colored pencils of varying lengths, jutting out the tops of mason jars.
She explained that she would regard each of us individually, making color and energy notations, then tell us what she saw about us. No questions afterwards.
First, I asked if she would tell us how she was able to do this.
“There’s not much to tell. I’m not sure why I started to see people’s auras, but I can tell you one story about what I call a significant shift. Most of my early life I was deeply in love with two men. The first one was Jesus.My father was protective, and if I wasn’t at school, I was home. Eventually, when I turned sixteen, he let me go to a friend’s house for a sleep over.After dinner we fixed each other’s hair and watched TV. At bedtime, we knelt by the bed together and said our prayers. My friend got in bed and asked me why I was still kneeling.I told her I was waiting for her father to come in and beat me.After that night, I noticed I could see different colors around people. My preoccupation with Jesus began to fade and I got more fascinated with Elvis Presley.”
We all bowed our heads to let this sink in, then she began her first drawing.
She scribbled colors and shapes rapidly, focusing on us one at a time.
Then, glancing at her renderings, she pointed out essential core patterns for each of us: brief, startling, and true. On the ride home, we agreed that we had never been seen more accurately, never been made so self-aware. A major hoot.
….we agreed that we had never been seen more accurately, never been made so self-aware.
The experience shook me out of a vague fog of assumptions. It ignited a longing for more clarity about everything. Then a budding obsession to rescue everybody swept me into a career of public school teaching.
Field notes along the way became stories, drawn from the countless playgrounds of endless diversity.
I love this, Sherry. Its humor and wisdom and even the shock at the beatings--it all works together to be a strong, compassionate and wise stance of a good human being.