Wonderful Stranger

It all started when i was about 11 years old. i was on holiday with my family in france. we were walking through a beautiful city in southern france – my siblings all got a special dessert treat from my parents, but i specifically wanted a chocolate Sunday from Mcdonalds… as i found them to be absolutely irresistible. So i waited until we came across a golden arch. As we neared one – i got quite excited, as ice-cream was and still is my favorite dessert; along with apple crumble and vanilla ice-cream. Anyway, a homeless man was asking for money right beside the entrance. my mother asked him if we could get him a coffee from Mcdonalds instead. he smiled and gratefully accepted her offer… my father gave me a few coins so that i could run inside and buy myself a chocolate sunday and then buy a coffee for the homeless man with what was left. They, my kin, waited outside for me. 

While i was waiting in line to order i began calculating how much money my father had given me in relation to how much i wanted to get. It didn’t even out. I didn’t have enough for both the coffee and the greatest dessert in the world. ‘shoot’ i politely thought. without too much contemplation i ordered and headed back to my waiting family. They were surprised at the only thing i was holding in my hands. coffee. they figured i didn’t have enough for both items and all agreed/betted that i would just get the delicious chocolate sunday. I handed the coffee to the beggar and went back to join my family. they expressed their astonishment while i casually wondered why they were so surprised. i hadn’t even really thought about it. it was just the polite/right/normal thing to do. and i believe most people would have done the same thing. 

It seems like nothing perhaps. but over the years, this little episode has stuck to me – and most likely completely vanished from the memories of my family. why so?… because already, right from when i was a child, with those meant to be ‘closest’ to me – there was a misunderstanding, a misreading. this little anecdote is the beginning of my journey. it’s what i would call the birth of a struggle that has since never left my side.  i left home at 16. Nine years ago. i grow and learn with my friends. they see me as i am, not as i was. i grow and learn. meet new friends… they see me as i am, not as i was. I change. etc. then i go back to old friends and old family and experience somewhat of a shock as i wonder what is happening. then i remember. then i regretfully become hard and frustrated because i have to go back in time… to a place that i happily left behind, and started to forget about. what makes this worse, is that, right from the get-go, there was already a deep misunderstanding. 

((this idea is something i think many people experience to different degrees… and for this reason… i Try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt… Trust them until they prove themselves Untrustworthy… believe in them first until something controversial comes along. Instead of the natural opposite… Don’t trust until they prove themselves trustworthy, don’t believe until they prove themselves believable. By trusting and believing in someone with no explicit reason… sometimes just this, gives them exactly what they needed to be ‘better,’ to grow and to change. Love someone and they will become lovable… hate someone and they will become hatable. etc. i find it so strange that people most often dislike people who dislike them… shouldn’t this generally be an easy problem to resolve?!))  

I do many things in jest, not thinking for a moment that it could be wrongly understood. i understand my intentions and somehow foolishly think others do as well. But… ‘we don’t see things as they are, but as we are.’ My mentor, who i respect like my own father, told me, “pierre, as long as you know yourself there is nothing else you can do.” but knowing myself often doesn’t seem enough. i am sensitive to people because i love people. i care what they think and what they say. i want them to know and understand my ‘heart.’ Strangely sometimes it is those closest to you who understand you the least… why? because they believe you don’t change. they believe that there is a ‘true unchanging self.’ resetting a perception on someone is not very easy. . . presumptions are killers because they Filter the New. I wish i didn’t care what people thought – as maybe age will teach me to do – but humans are so prone to ‘knowing.’ we can’t settle in a state of constant discovery… expecting to be wrong or surprised, wanting for our perceptions to morph into a play-dough-type material… where every touch changes, effects, and even resets.  

Strangers can be so refreshing. Strangers can be so influential. . . because they give you a chance without even realizing it. 

I don’t really know the point of this post… maybe there are many, maybe there are none. that will probably depend on the reader. as always – nothing new under the sun…