Context of Mind

Last summer, I visited the San Diego Zoo with some friends. We paid our $20 and joined the throngs to view each exhibit. Of course, we insisted on seeing the biggest displays. The birds, elephants, seals. And the giraffes. Of course, don't forget the giraffes. While we were standing at this particular display, we were informed that, earlier that summer, there had been an attempted escape by one of the younger animals. Getting a good running start, he tried clear to moat surrounding his allotted patch of grass and trees. The story was meant to be funny. And it was. I laughed. And later recounted the story to other friends. But I couldn't help but feel slightly disturbed. I could spend hours, days, weeks observing these animals and still gain little to no understanding of their characters and habits. Sure, I could get an idea of their routine, notice patterns in their behavior, maybe even come to know these particular giraffes intimately. But they've been taken completely out of context, out of their natural environment, the ecosystem of coexisting plants, animals, and pests that all simultaneously alter each others daily existence. My sister once spent two months in the bush of Namibia, Africa, and witnessed giraffes in their homeland, where she was an intruder on their territory. She said that they were magnificent and almost terrifying in the speed and grace with which they moved, ran and played. She only caught a brief glimpse of the giraffes, maybe a five minute display of one herd's hurried excursion across the wilderness. But in those five minutes, she saw them as they were intended to live, roaming, free, and independent, in their intended context. Not the full context of their existence, but the right context.

Light is often used as a metaphor for knowledge and understanding. Light probably feels pretty good about this, even a little smug. But the truth is, all light is certainly not created equal. Some of it is downright annoying, to be honest. Fluorescent light, in particular, gets a pretty bad rap. And rightfully so. I leave my house in the morning, feeling pretty content with how I look, only to go stand under fluorescent lights all day, resulting in my skin looking orange or red or whatever color it absolutely does NOT want to look. Ever. I've tried campaigning to have fluorescent lights banned from all public institutions. Honestly, they're really bad for sociatal morale. If there's a flaw anywhere, the fluorescent light will find it. It can't be healthy to be exposed to this. Down with fluorescent lighting! The sun, on the other hand, is my personal favorite light form. It manages to shine just the right light to display true beauty. In everything. And that's what we need. The right light.

But how much do we really see in its full context, anyway, in the right light? Not much, if anything. We catch narrow glimpses of events, of lives that entertwine with ours for a time. But each of these experiences are diminished by our own biases, opinions, and limited exposure. I used to love to people-watch. I still do, actually. I would sit in the lobby of the Engineering building on my college campus, watching people walk by, some whom I knew well, others I had never seen before, and some whom I crossed paths with frequently but rarely spoke to. I would try, usually unsuccessfully, to read their thoughts, their emotions. I wondered what was perturbing their lives on each particular day, whether it be illness, lost friendships, new love, births or deaths, or simply the monotony of classes and everyday college living. I wanted to know where they were coming from, to see the context of their emotions and minds. But our minds are shaped by not only events currently surrounding us, but every episode, from birth to present.

People enter our lives every day, some as brief passers-by, while others stake claim on our hearts for months, years, and sometimes, forever. And we learn to love them, and to allow ourselves to be loved. Love is an act, the act of intertwining our context with that of another. Of fully sharing with them the framework of our lives, and allowing them to do the same, until, eventually, two separate contexts mesh to become one. But this takes months, years of not only listening and observing, but living in their life, taking part physically and emotionally in each aspect, from the magnificent to the mediocre. And only then do we really and fully understand a person.

"Judge not, that ye be not judged."