Wednesday Valuables: Sometimes, someone will bother to see what it's like to be you...

Once in a great while, people take the good old adages their mothers gave them seriously. Put yourself in their shoes, I'm sure someone said to you at some point. And it wasn't easy. Maybe it never is. But we ought to try, for the betterment of ourselves and our relationships. Step into their shoes. See what it might feel like to be that person.

Thich Nhat Hanh wrote a moving poem after hearing about the rape of a young girl. The poem illustrates amazing compassion as Hanh imagines himself as all characters in any scenario. The girl, and the rapist. The teacher, and the student. The predator, and the prey. (Call me by my true names). I was so terribly struck by this concept... This ability to step into any person's skin and see the world they way do with their hurts, their disappointments, their joys, and their doubts in mind.

I have been able to see things from another person's point of view, but usually only certainly people. Certain characters, I'm less likely to try to understand. I've been known to say to questions about serial killers and people who molest small children, You know, it might be for the best if we don't understand what these sorts of people are thinking. I don't know if that's my way of protecting my humanity (If you go too far into the cave, especially into the pitch black places, how will you ever get out?) or fear of having to explore such a mind when that exploration might be the key to understanding... which in turn may be the key to turning people to something more constructive... I don't know.

Either way, it takes a special, smart person to try. To look at the questionable behavior of another person and to think why, "Why would this person act this way?" before jumping to conclusions and judgments.

It takes an equally special person to look into you and remind you that they see something that must be more you than most people.

There's a grandmother figure in my life who stepped in my world for a moment to let me know that she see's a big part of what's so Me about me. She's been reading the latest Sue Monk Kidd book that the well-known author wrote with her daughter. Apparently, they are both at transition points in their own lives; the mother is realizing that she's getting older, becoming the dreaded "old person," while the daughter is coming of age and wondering what to do with her life.

While it sounds like a good read, here's the quote that this special person sent to me:

It sounds musical. I like the name. To me, it suggests a self-assured woman. If I had a name like Geneviève, I would know exactly who I am and what I’m supposed to do. A Geneviève, it seems to me, could paint a self-portrait, would know how to say: this is who I am.

I know that's my goal. Is it something she sees in me though? Is it something I can see in myself?

I know that I know who I am right now and who I hope to become. I know why I fly off the handle. I know why I don't react at all. I know who I love. I know who I wish I loved. I know what I want to do. I know why I don't always have the courage to do it.

I used to hear words like "self-assured" and I would link it to something like "perfection." But, I think I am self-assured, I am painfully self-aware. It's not a matter of perfection but of confident knowledge...

Geneviève is the name that I chose for myself. I was given a name from a couple who didn't know who they were or what they were doing together. Likewise, I felt all my life that I had been given the wrong name for the person I must have really been. A name that didn't fit and never sounded like me. From childhood, I could tell my skin would never fit right over my bones until I found my true name.

This is something my special grandmother knows through trials, not inherent understanding. She earned her knowledge on the subject. She and her family took to my name change the quickest, with the most compassion, and the best celebration. Rather than thinking I was being dramatic or strange or what have you, like many people in my extended family, they treated me as though nothing had happened... for, after all, they knew that I was Geneviève all along, just as I had.

Thank you, M, for seeing and understanding one of the most significant elements of my life.

Of course, Saint Geneviève and I have very little in common... save our natural need to help others in our world and to understand them even when they don't appreciate what was done for them. She did curse the men once for turning their backs on their country, but what passionate woman doesn't lose her head now and again? She healed the sick and was a valued advisor.

May the Genevièves of the world, whatever your names may be, bring something back to those who have loved us.

(from http://everydaysaholiday.files.wordpress.com)