First of all. Brian, I don’t remember posting about facebook so if I did, I am truly embarrassed and I won’t do it anymore. But yes, your text message was heartfelt and delightful. And I can’t give up on the Vic scene… more to come later.
My brother and I went to the movie tonight. When we were there, I saw a boy with a broken leg that was the same boy we had past last night when we went to the beach and the night market for my birthday. I pointed out to Nate that he was the same kid, and Nathan was shocked that I remembered. I don’t think it’s the remembering that is interesting, it is that I noticed him at all.
Often, people will make comparisons in their lives that are best explained as “black and white.” Such as the truth and lies are black and white. Or the rules set in school are black and white, you break them, you get punished…no in between. But what about the grey? We strive so often for answers and understandings that we omit the areas that seem to have no concrete place; order notwithstanding. It intrigues me how much we leave behind when we are searching for one…or the other. I think what is interesting is that the most solid things are ones that occurred in the past: I had blond hair; I read that book; I went to school; I didn’t like that soufflé; I love soccer but now I love baseball more. All of these absolute experiences and favours are results from our dabbling in them.
Present blacks and whites are a little less obvious for me. There are very few things of concrete existence: I am 22, my Mom and Dad are Jack and Lucy; I am a Christian, I work in an office, I
have brown hair, I like to sleep, I go to university. Currently, these aspects of me are black and white, no variations, no opposites… what I’ve listed is what is true. And what is true is what is real. Yet the best part is those are all subject to change, I just won’t know it until it happens.
So why do we think in black and white? Why do lives so consumed in brilliant colours need outlines of white and black? Things are not always one or the other way… the little things, that often go unnoticed, do not always match very easily or stand firmly on their own. No, these parts of our worlds rarely catch the glint of our eyes and harness the avenues of our minds. I think that there is a huge part of me that is looking out for those components in my worlds, almost like if I blink I will miss it… or I look around, at everything, drinking in every littlest detail of my surroundings. It’s why I notice when the girl in the corner of my english class, who’s bottom lip is trembling. Or the little boy in my grade 5 practicum class was hesitating to join the other children. It’s why I read stories without skimming paragraphs (unless it’s a Karen Kingsbury novel) or how I don’t need to watch a movie twice to understand how they did that. It’s how I remembered that boy with the broken leg.
I have decided it’s because I think and see the shades of grey. The undefined, quiet, shy, lonely, independent parts of life… my world is consumed by the lack of labels and the fact that the fantastic parts that colour my world are made so by their shadows of grey.. Because I can guarantee you, things we used to believe are black (or white) can get to be pretty grey now. We need to be vigilant in protecting those things we are sure about… so that once we stop focusing on the things we already know to be true, we stay driven to discovering and learning about those parts that are grey. The parts that stand alone and in dire need of our attention.