Groucho Marx is known for having said that he didn’t care to join any club that would have people like him as members, and for years the paradox of this statement rendered it enigmatic to me; however, as with so many things in life, time has provided clarity and the old woman in me can better appreciate his observation of human nature.
Being accepted and even well-regarded seems like a reasonable goal for any being who participates in a pack. Spend time on a farm observing the chickens, sheep, or horses and you might see what happens when one of them steps out of line: at best this infraction could result in a peck or a kick; at worst it could resolve itself with the offender being mercilessly attacked and ostracized indefinitely. Seeing this kind of brutality always tempts me to gasp and despair at the cruelty, but the feeling is almost immediately replaced with memories of personal experiences and observations as well as the daily news feeds we all see that remind me that human animals aren’t immune to thinning the herd, either. To some degree we need others for our own survival, and risking expulsion from the fold by deviating from its accepted norm could be figuratively or literally deadly.
I believe my almost perpetual state of contemplation is payback for having laughed in college at J. Alfred Prufrock’s insufferable vacillation over whether to eat a peach. A peach! “Come on, J.,” I thought, “Eat the blasted peach and get on with things!” These days I waver between wishing to be embraced by peer groups and fearing that when the new wears off and they see my imperfections that they’ll resent having been duped by what at first appeared to be a consistently high-functioning individual. More than once, especially in professional settings, when someone gifts me a compliment for work I’ve completed I am compelled to follow up my “thank you” with the disclaimer that I might have done well this time but next time I could make mistakes. I know, I know. The onion of my psyche is best left unpeeled, I’m certain!
Wherever biological adults congregate there is the danger of a Lord of the Flies vibe, with hierarchies being quickly (and, it seems, arbitrarily) established. Watchful eyes constantly check for behaviors that can be dissected in quiet huddles later after the target has gone. In short, regardless of an individual’s age or gender identity, they could harbor an inner Mean Girl or be preyed upon by one. It can be exhausting to operate in this world, which makes it all the more a blessing to have even one person who knows darned well that you’re not perfect and still celebrates you all the same.
I once shared my home with a finch who lived a lengthy and exuberant life. She had favorite songs to which she would dance and sing when they played on the radio, and her existence brightened my days. One morning when I walked into the room where her large dwelling was kept I saw that she was on the bottom of it, in a corner. She was listless and could barely lift her head to look at me. I immediately wrapped her in a towel and drove to the vet clinic where I was told that my finch’s behavior was not uncommon; in the wild, animals often disguise injuries or sickness as long as possible—often until they cannot go on—because at the first sign of weakness they are destroyed by other members of the group. My spirited little roommate died in my hands a few hours later, and the lesson of her death has never left me.
It is undeniably wonderful to have someone in our life with whom we share adventures, laughs, romance, and achievements. Even my own hermit-like self conceded this truth when I met the person who improved upon my solitude. Equally, or perhaps more, important, is the relief that comes from being with someone around whom we need to hide nothing. They can cheer us in all our glory, but they can also witness our frailties and mistakes, the parts of ourselves we want to keep hidden with Oscar-worthy performances because we fear rejection or the fall from grace we believe will result when we’re outed. Having someone see us at our weakest, most flawed, or even just on an off day, and meeting that with their grace and love, feels like the closest thing to divinity we can experience on Earth. To trust someone not to turn away when they see who we really are in our entirety, and to, in fact, draw us nearer, teaches us to grant the same tenderness to ourselves and others.
PartWolf 