Genius in truth means little more than the faculty of perceiving in an unhabitual way
– William James
It was 7:30 in the morning and I had to cross the city to teach a group at an elementary school. I ran to the bus, knowing that it would be packed and I would be standing for the duration of my trip. It would only be twenty minutes travel time but still, there’s a status symbol to have a seat while others stand.
In the past, I’ve been the only one standing on a rush hour bus and I’ve seen the condescending eyes of those blessed with their uncomfortable plastic seats. How they look at you all proud of their little possessions. (All kidding aside, you know what I realllly hate? I hate insensitive people who take up two seats when the bus or train is full. It’s usually them and their bag sitting beside each other, an inconsiderate couple on their little journey together. How can you do that? Or am I being insensitive to the needs of book bags and backpacks?… but I digress)
SO, I got on the bus and guess what? Yes you are right – A SEAT FOR ME. “Congratulations Shawn – Thank you very much”. Oddly, others were standing and not jumping on this little treasure. So be it.
In the seat next to mine was a sleeping young man with his head covered by his ‘hip-hop hoodie’. His arms were crossed and legs spread out into the aisle so that people moved around to avoid bumping him. Ahhh Not me.
I mean really, his feet are right there, stretched into the aisle with a sense of ownership on this common walking space. That didn’t seem right, fair or considerate… So I bumped into those dirty running shoes as I got to the seat. His feet moved slightly and then readjusted to the same point in the middle of the aisle.
Good enough, I made my point.
Then I realised why others might not be sitting in the seat beside him. As I took MY seat and prepared a glance around to connect with fellow travellers, I recognized that the kid’s left knee was firmly pushing into my space. And not only pushing into my space but jutting into my leg. His elbows were obviously over the line of what would be allowed by any organisation that might regulate that sort of thing…. which there isn’t… except in my mind.
No one would be comfortable sitting beside the little seat hog. So I decided to take a stand for all those who have suffered under wide knee expansion on busses and trains and movie theatres everywhere. (Hey, did you know that on the windows on trains in Japan they have stickers of a stick man image – a man sitting on a seat with his legs spread wide apart, taking up all the space with a red line through it? “Men with legs spread apart, close it up!” http://artpad.art.com/?kjis1a5xofs is a funny example of what I’m talking about )
So I pushed back against his leg with some slight resistance just to the point where his seat and mine joined. I didn’t want more seat than I deserved - just what I paid for.
WOMP! His knee pushed back.
What the… Really??? And so I pushed back again. And again his leg came back at mine more forcefully. Amazing!! For the next five minutes a little status game of physical domination ensued until finally, this little beast sat up, took hid hood off, turned to me and said “You are a rude man.”
With his hood down, I realised that my adversary was a teen about 15 years old with Downs Syndrome. His ability to perceive the problem was about the level of a 5 or 6 year old.
Yeah.
Well I showed him!
My problem was that I showed no empathy outside of the reality that I had become accustomed to on early morning busses in my area. My assumption that everyone around me was equal in thought, comprehension and consideration mislead me. The reality that I was living in was not the reality of the moment but the reality of my past.
I got off the bus to the stares of the other passengers. It made me think of the story about Douglas Adams and the cookies. If you don’t know Douglas Adams, he’s the late great writer responsible for the Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy and other fun books. This is what happened to him:
THE COOKIE STORY BY DOUGLAS ADAMS
This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person was me. I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I’d gotten the time of the train wrong.
I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table.
I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind.
Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.
It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.
Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.
You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know. . . But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?
In the end I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, that settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie.
Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice . . .” I mean, it doesn’t really work.
We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.
Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.
The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.
(Excerpted from “The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time” by Douglas Adams)
This entry is getting long… You get the point. We get blinded by what we “KNOW”.
When knowledge gets in the way of knowing what’s REALLY going on we mess it up for those who are willing to be present and open to the world. See reality as it exists and not just as it exists for you.
Now back to work, or cheese making or whatever it is you were doing.
Have a good day,
Shawn
