To be jostled

When we are young, our understanding and knowledge of the world, of people and their interrelationships is still in formation, and we are constantly being confronted with new information.  The three year old's understanding of their family's relationships, who is in charge of what, and how it is that the sky is blue-all constantly evolving.

At 21, we have a firmer understanding of the basics, but we regularly are confronted with different people who expose us to new ideas and challenge the way we have been taught by our parents.  Thus we continue to morph both our views, the way we present ourselves to the world, and what interests us.

By 50, we don't make new friends so easily.  Somewhere along the way we began to filter the new stimuli, for the sake of stability and in pursuit of other goals-how else does one stay married and raise their own family, establish a career within one field and save for retirement?  All noble goals, these, but somewhere along the way we stop being energized by the new incursions into our awareness, and turn our backs.

The unsettling that comes with being open to new learning, new people, different tastes, an alternate route, and another view of the same scene jostles me.  Law school has been a series of nudges and pokes that force me to reawaken that part of me that admits to not knowing and being open to learning.  So too have some new friends that came from law school.  But surprisingly, having once opened the door for the particular jostling that law school gives me, I find I am admitting other forms of this unsettling.  A new or unusual experience makes me think, causes me to consider anew a prejudice, a conception.

My son and his wife have been visiting over the holidays, and I have lent them my car for most of the visit.  This means I am walking and riding the bus to work, which is not really a significant life change.  I've ridden the bus, the subway, the train in many cities of the world.  And yet riding it here in my own backyard is a different experience than riding the metro in Madrid, or Istanbul, or the bus on the Quilotoa Loop.  For one thing, it is not generally socially acceptable to ride the bus here unless one is a student, poor or mentally ill.  I think this is a common perception in small towns in the US.  Once you get to a city, this changes.  In San Francisco, it is perfectly ok to be a high level executive, and take mass transit.  But not so here.

And so I've been interested to observe a few things.  Of course I take note of my fellow passengers, of the colorful people to be found wandering about the transit mall.   I also find myself considering what riding the bus says about me to others, and what it says to me about myself.

It's forcing me to reassess my own views of those who wait at bus stops, and to reconsider why we- why I don't ride the bus.  I'm not so comfortable with some of the results, but in some way I'm glad for the jostling.  Maybe I'll keep riding the bus even after my car is returned, maybe not.  But I hope I'll be poked and prodded in some way.