Today I was told something I found rather profound. We are given information about life, love, relationships, people, in little spoonfuls, instead of the whole bowl at one time.
It takes a lot of time to get to know someone or something well, to know it intimately.
Most dangerous of all is how we control those spoonfuls. We manipulate what goes into them, dodging the things we don’t want them to know, showing them exactly as we pretend to be. We also force feed them this image of ourselves mainly as a form of defense. They can’t hurt me if they don’t know who I really am.
Even at its most benign, information comes to us slowly. We learn most about people through shared experiences. And the only way to share those experiences is by, well, sharing them. They don’t come quickly, and generally aren’t planned events. It is the spontaneous unexpected whims of life that really bring us close.
And despite what you try, even with your guard fully up, sometimes these acts of whimsy let someone inside your crazy world, even for a minute. Long enough to steal a piece of you and keep it for themselves forever.
Some people are experience junkies. And can’t wait to go out and experience life with anyone willing to participate. I think they enjoy the human experience, but I think they enjoy the personal experience more.
I’ve always gotten by with a small extremely close group of friends. We have served each other many spoonfuls of ourselves. And we have had many laughs and cries and freakout moments in between. Now we mostly tend to help each other out when someone is in a bind, that and talk sports. Our hangouts are always raucous and exciting. I’m glad I have been able to share so much of myself with these people.
One spoonful at a time.