April 24- Day 5 of verbal and technological silence in retreat. I'm sure we're all hoping that I'm still alive and sane.
1. Friends and Family
Somehow, as humans, we find a way to make sense out of the social situation no matter where we go, no matter whether or not a real social system exists (or, if it does, whether we are outside of it or not). Traveling alone can be wonderfully, liberatingly, beautifully, lonely at times. Luckily for me, and for all of us, we are not alone.
When we are away from familiar faces, when we are away from anything familiar, we draw new families in India's dust. People you meet for a few moments suddenly become old friends, sparks of familiarity in an inferno of the unknown. Neighbors at the guest house suddenly became my best friends, my family; and they, equally eager for conversation and social contact, would sit for me with hours. Those I met once or twice in an activity were suddenly hugging me in the street, classmates became family as we sat together for a meal.
What does she mean, became family? Are they that lonely? No, most of the Indian (two-ships-passing-in-the-night) relationships were not made out of loneliness or desperation, but out of the sheer pleasure of talking to someone who shares some of the same cultural and linguistic knowledge. When lone travelers meet, often, it is as though you have instantly become old friends or family. You begin sharing with each other the intimate details of your life, as if this was the most normal of activities to do with a perfect stranger.
What's most odd is the anonymity of it. I've had a fair few of these relationships when I realized, long after the other is gone, that I don't remember their names. Often, you forget to introduce yourself until after several days of shared meals, moon-watchings, and other activities.
As vagabonds, we're outside of each social system we approach as we roam, but somehow the local structures make their way into our own bizarre web. A local friend or two weaves himself in; the shopkeep who invited you to chai. The thangka painter who laughs at your sneezes. The waiter at your favorite restaurant. Slowly, the social creatures that we are, we paint ourselves into a fleeting and imaginary world of social connections.
From the bits and pieces, we form our own bizarre social system, social network. It's human nature, and it's fascinating; a bit like watching an artist pick up pieces from a landfill to form something beautiful.
Who are you? It doesn't matter. Welcome to Mcleod.
1. Friends and Family
Somehow, as humans, we find a way to make sense out of the social situation no matter where we go, no matter whether or not a real social system exists (or, if it does, whether we are outside of it or not). Traveling alone can be wonderfully, liberatingly, beautifully, lonely at times. Luckily for me, and for all of us, we are not alone.
When we are away from familiar faces, when we are away from anything familiar, we draw new families in India's dust. People you meet for a few moments suddenly become old friends, sparks of familiarity in an inferno of the unknown. Neighbors at the guest house suddenly became my best friends, my family; and they, equally eager for conversation and social contact, would sit for me with hours. Those I met once or twice in an activity were suddenly hugging me in the street, classmates became family as we sat together for a meal.
What does she mean, became family? Are they that lonely? No, most of the Indian (two-ships-passing-in-the-night) relationships were not made out of loneliness or desperation, but out of the sheer pleasure of talking to someone who shares some of the same cultural and linguistic knowledge. When lone travelers meet, often, it is as though you have instantly become old friends or family. You begin sharing with each other the intimate details of your life, as if this was the most normal of activities to do with a perfect stranger.
What's most odd is the anonymity of it. I've had a fair few of these relationships when I realized, long after the other is gone, that I don't remember their names. Often, you forget to introduce yourself until after several days of shared meals, moon-watchings, and other activities.
As vagabonds, we're outside of each social system we approach as we roam, but somehow the local structures make their way into our own bizarre web. A local friend or two weaves himself in; the shopkeep who invited you to chai. The thangka painter who laughs at your sneezes. The waiter at your favorite restaurant. Slowly, the social creatures that we are, we paint ourselves into a fleeting and imaginary world of social connections.
From the bits and pieces, we form our own bizarre social system, social network. It's human nature, and it's fascinating; a bit like watching an artist pick up pieces from a landfill to form something beautiful.
Who are you? It doesn't matter. Welcome to Mcleod.
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