“I am one of you," or why do we find it so hard to admit that we belong somewhere?
esztersweeklyelephant.substack.com
Years ago, at the first session of a two-year course, thirty of us stood in the middle of a high ceilinged, classically styled room. We knew that we would meet each other from time to time over the next two years and that during these meetings, we would learn things about each other, about each other's families, that go far beyond any information one would typically share with strangers they had only met a few times in their life. Indeed, over the next two years, we really did learn incredible things about each other. There were shared tears, huge shocks, pain that caused such despair in one of us that the thick walls of the building seemed to tremble. We saw each other cry, laugh through tears, sigh deeply, curse ugly, scream. We saw each other in many ways, and we all vowed to keep each other's secrets, to keep this sensitive information within the circle. Over the two years, some friendships formed that either lasted or did not, and of course, there were one or two people in all of our cases whom we would have preferred to avoid even during those two years. This is natural, after all, who could guarantee that out of thirty people, everyone would be likable to everyone else?
“I am one of you," or why do we find it so hard to admit that we belong somewhere?
“I am one of you," or why do we find it so…
“I am one of you," or why do we find it so hard to admit that we belong somewhere?
Years ago, at the first session of a two-year course, thirty of us stood in the middle of a high ceilinged, classically styled room. We knew that we would meet each other from time to time over the next two years and that during these meetings, we would learn things about each other, about each other's families, that go far beyond any information one would typically share with strangers they had only met a few times in their life. Indeed, over the next two years, we really did learn incredible things about each other. There were shared tears, huge shocks, pain that caused such despair in one of us that the thick walls of the building seemed to tremble. We saw each other cry, laugh through tears, sigh deeply, curse ugly, scream. We saw each other in many ways, and we all vowed to keep each other's secrets, to keep this sensitive information within the circle. Over the two years, some friendships formed that either lasted or did not, and of course, there were one or two people in all of our cases whom we would have preferred to avoid even during those two years. This is natural, after all, who could guarantee that out of thirty people, everyone would be likable to everyone else?