We desire to be understood. We desire to be misunderstood. The line is thin, yet somehow there resides the most pristine of human experience.
In our youth our tiny bodies grow, bones lengthen, muscles develop and skin expands. All with the sole purpose of building a stable, sturdy physique capable of thriving in the world. The brain unfortunately struggles to keep up in this new age where it is capable of doing more than simply controlling the body. Complex emotions try to form, to thrive, just as our body does. The task here is much more difficult and much less biologically deterministic. The room for consciousness is built, but it is empty, and we need to fill the void. We look out through the window of our tiny room and see other people. We believe their rooms are beautifully furnished, cozy, and finished. And so we set out on the journey of making this room truly our own.
Culture, art, music, movement, style; anything that looks sturdy enough to identify with. You meet new people and you peek into their window, and what you see is beautiful. You want your room to look just like that. You want people to feel just like you felt when you show them your room. You want to be understood. And the first people who don’t understand are your parents. At that point, we can’t acknowledge that they don’t understand what we tried to achieve with our room exactly because they understand why we furnished it the way we did. This of course happens subconsciously and lays the foundation for our relationships later in life.
Time passes and your room is fuller than you ever imagined. Some things are beautiful, some things ugly. But ugly or beautiful, an important part of your room. But the rooms you’ve seen so far were all beautiful. How?
You compartmentalize your room and make what is visible through the window a true display case. Everything visible from the outside looks perfect, positioned just how you want it to be. Suddenly you realize that’s what we all do. The window is a display case. You meet new people and their display case looks almost the same as yours. You become interested not in the display case, but in why the objects in it are positioned as they are. Which objects got left out and tucked into the back room and why?
You outgrow a period in your life, you start enjoying different art, pursuing different goals, and building a different display case. You tuck away what was previously on display and bring in new items. With each cycle, the space behind the showcase becomes larger and fuller. When you finally let someone into the room to see behind the showcase, will they understand why each and every item is stored there? Do you want them to? Will you allow them to bring their own items into your room? Do you want to see their room, or would you rather hold onto the image you created of them by looking at their showcase?
And in the end, it doesn’t matter which item is displayed. It’s about why a person has kept it. If someone sees and understands each and every item you become afraid that you no longer have your individuality. If someone doesn’t see and understand, you feel like all they see is a larger display case and you become afraid you’re misunderstood. Be understood and become afraid you’ve lost your individuality. Some pick one, some pick the other. Some tear down a wall and connect their room to another person’s. And somewhere between both rooms lives love.
