I can't remember when I first coined the expression, of course taking supreme liberty with the original, but hey, everything's derivative. If I had a dollar for every minute I have wasted explaining, justifying, elucidating and dumbing down to suit the needs and demands of impervious idiots I would be able to afford to buy a house in Vancouver. Unpleasant strangers on the street can be particularly odious. Even today when I was in a crowded frou-frou café with a client. When I went to use the washroom I had to slalom my way past a huge mob waiting in line, their trays all conveniently poised to be walked into. Knowing how absolutely deaf and ignorant perfect strangers can be I simply moved the trays out of my way with my hand while saying a quick excuse me. One nasty piece of work shouted "Excuse you!" I turned around, glared at him and replied "I said excuse me and there is no reason to be rude." That's all I said.
It would be lovely if we were all on the same page, Gentle Reader. We are not. When I am on the sidewalk, or anywhere in public I try to maintain a gentle awareness of those around me: to not view them as objects in the way, and simply to not seem them as objects, but as individuals with lives that matter. I don't always succeed. Sometimes I set the bar realistically high for myself, inevitably I fail and come off looking and feeling like a hypocrite. But really why not? If I didn't have high standards, standards too high for even myself, then how could I possibly aspire to be better, to improve or to grow? I have been having to learn the humiliating lesson of falling short and pressing on regardless. Sometimes, yes, I do have to adjust or lower the bar a little. Without challenges we don't grow, we don't move forward.
It would be impossible to try to successfully empathize with every single stranger that I see throughout the day. I find that it is better to just focus on those in my immediate whereabouts. It doesn't matter who, whether they are attractive or unattractive, well-off, poor, Caucasian, Asian, African, each one has a life, a family (or had a family), friends (I hope), in most cases a job, or classes, volunteer work, social activities, obligations. Some are clearly unwell or self-destructive. I have blogged elsewhere about second-hand smoke and I promise not to bore you again, at least not today. Some are homeless.
I cannot believe that every single person that I see on the street is a selfish, vacuous narcissist, though I'm sure many are. Some are kind, generous. Some carry the most horrendous wounds in their soul, some are callous and dangerous sociopaths. Most are so frantically busy getting from place to place, or so absorbed in their little tech toys that they really see nothing and no one outside of the tiny little screen in their hand.
Such people cannot be reasoned with nor persuaded by eloquent arguments. If they are in my way I try to avoid them. If they are really offensive I might say something without sticking around to argue. From time to time I seem to get a fleeting glimpse of an actual living human soul lurking somewhere behind their eyes and then suddenly I am touched by a fragile and fleeting love, too easily forgotten as I hurry along on my way to get far away from this infuriating mob of incurable idiots.
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