A Lesson Learned Again and Again

I have hurt someone. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. But I have.

I knew this was coming from the very beginning. I knew that at some point I would be the one who would do the hurting, since I am the one who is interested in friendship and the man I have hurt is interested in much more.

Last night I didn't sleep at all, disturbed by how I had hurt him. I scrutinized my thoughts and realized that they fit a common pattern for me. Whenever I have some sort of hurtful or unfortunate social interaction, I think that perhaps I am not well-suited for interactions with people, interactions of any depth, that is. Instead I should confine myself to compliments about someone's cooking or outfit and light conversation about the weather. I always seem to get in trouble if I venture any further.

I recall the image that came to me once in a dream or perhaps it was in a waking vision. It was the 1940s or maybe the '30s. I was an attractive woman who lived alone in a cute, little apartment. I said hello to everyone I encountered, the green grocer and the newspaper boy, the old woman beating her rugs on the fire escape, the good-looking man who would tip his hat when I passed by. I was pleasant with my coworkers. I always had a genuine smile on my face for anyone I might see, and that smile was there even when I was alone. I went on excursions about town, and I cooked candlelit meals for myself. I enjoyed reading in my sunlit parlor and walking my dog or teaching my parrot to talk. I seemed very happy, yet I had no lover, no friends, no contact with family. I was just floating through this world, content to be alive and not disturbing anyone. This image returned to me today. Was this me in another life? Or is this my true nature--to be alone?

I think, too, of what my enlightened-being-of-the-north-woods friend asked me in the summer of 2006 when I was visiting her in northeastern Washington: "Why do I have to interact with people?" I gave her answers such as "You can only learn certain things through interacting with people" and "You are a person, so interacting with other people will help you learn about yourself." To this she replied, "What if I don't want to learn those things?" For that I had no answer.

And yet I would love to have deep friendship and deep intimacy, but perhaps I just don't understand the ways of the world. I missed school the day that relationships, friendship, and making one's way in the world were discussed. I've just got to muddle through without the benefit of notes.

This disconnect was so strongly brought to my attention one night decades ago. I was driving on Pacific Coast Highway and encountered a police officer who was signalling with his flashlight. I thought he meant that I should continue to drive forward, whereas instead he meant for me to stop. As I passed him, he yelled and slammed his flashlight into the side of my vehicle. I was shocked. Here I thought I was doing what was asked, but instead I was doing just the opposite. How often this has happened--I am traveling along, thinking I am acting in accordance with society's norms, only to be wacked into awareness of how far afield I am.

In the current situation, I was at fault for how the hurt unfolded. I made mistakes that I will not make again. But the larger mistake of thinking that a man could be my friend is one that I have often made in the past and I suspect, unless I live as the woman in my vision, I will make again.