“Stop bragging” my friend says with disgust and I my first thought is “why?” after all, I worked hard for my skill. I bled and gritted through the pain. I trained and pushed and burned for the ability to do what I do, so why should I try to hide it, or deny my practice?
I realized that it wasn’t worth the argument, so I turned aside, but inside I wonder why it’s so wrong to show off; why I shouldn’t allow others to know what I can do.
Later I stood in the library and saw a young woman who caught my eye. She was Asian and new and looked interesting. On my way out I paused near her as I left wondering how timid she was and if it would be taken amiss if I said hello. She saved me the trouble by speaking first, softly saying hello and introducing herself. I smiled and replied, then we walked for a time talking. As we went she seemed to blush and turn away a little before confessing that she’d stared at me. Then she apologized for the attention she’d paid me. I laughed and replied that I hadn’t noticed. I assumed she meant when I was practicing my skill, until she clarified that she was unused to men with long hair and beards as she’d come from a catholic school
As I walked away later I was struck by her peculiar apology. It was as foreign to me to have someone apologize for staring as I was to her. More I’d had my hair and beard long enough that I not longer noticed looks o stares or attention that it drew.
I thought back to my childhood, of taking pride in my hair and appearance. I recalled wearing the stares of others like a rich mantel that set me aside from my peers. I was different, unlike them, and I loved it.
I began to realize how jaded I was to the reactions and shrugged it off.
At breakfast the next day a man came in wearing fishnet arm bands over a black shirt, and a collar around his neck. I watched him enter and stood studying him for a time before I realized I’d been staring. I turned away and watched him from the side. I went to my customary table and half hoped he’d join me, so I could talk to him. He didn’t, of course, but a time later into the meal I was joined by the Asian girl. As she got her meal I waved her over and was soon satisfied with her company at the table. I looked around but the boy was gone. I wondered what she would have thought of him, but didn’t ask. I could imagine her reaction, shock, surprise, perhaps a shy sort of interest, he like me was something new.
He and I were perhaps not so different. Did he feel my eyes on him? Did he perhaps dress as he did for the same reason I’d grown my hair years before? This musing held for a time, until other things stole my attention, like class.
Later in the day I saw a girl using a walking aid similar to the ones I’d seen my grandfather use near his death. I saw her from across the field and stared as I approached, then noticed myself and felt ashamed. Part of me suspected that she was as jaded to my stares as I was to those I received for my hair. Or was she perhaps as desperately aware of them as I was about those drawn by my odd skill? I dared not ask. Later I saw her again and introduced myself. I said nothing of her walker, or of my staring. I lacked the courage of the small Asian girl to simply apologize for a rude amount of curiosity. I fled her company when I was able to. It was unnerving to realize my own shortcoming when compared to the young freshman girl who was so polite.
I wonder if perhaps we as a people are less polite that we aught to be. We try to hide our rudeness and hope our indiscretions will go unnoted. Perhaps this is better, as I know some staring is intended. Sometimes I want to be watched and observed and wondered about.
Are there perhaps right and wrong reasons and times to be rude and stare? For example, when I “perform” it isn’t wrong to stare at me, in fact I expect it. I want it, I crave the attention. Then there are some times when one must stare to understand something. They must watch it and wonder. Staring can provoke thought, convey interest, and even spark new thoughts, the very essence of life as I know it.
Staring can also hurt, humiliate and harm others. Silent staring is perhaps the worst, yet it is a natural reaction. When we see something that interests us, we stare, when we like something, or hate something, or are amazed by something, we stare. We observe the world in this way and interact in this way, but I cannot but wonder if that is wrong somehow.
Can the simple act of staring teach us? If so then stare, by all means for whatever reason stare and grow. But if not, if staring serves no purpose other than to be rude and make others uncomfortable then why do we instinctually do so? Why is the social instinct to do something that can do such harm and is viewed as being so wrong? Why do some people crave attention while others despise it? And above all of this why, why is it so essential to the human condition to tear each other apart with the acts which are most ingrained in us?
