Monday, August 13, 2007

Gossamer Junctures

I am sitting here in my classroom on the last day of a long weekend, indulging in an iced mocha from 7-11 while munching on a brand new favourite: garlic toast crackers. Usually, I would be working on my schoolwork, but my iced mocha isn’t finished and I would consider it a capital offence to squander the liquid rejuvenation on something so vulgar as humdrum work. As a result, I sit here, writing my contemplations on this past weekend.

Community is such an odd beast. It is so fragile that the gust of wind from a single whisper can topple years and years’ worth of mutual construction; yet it is so resilient that no force in the universe can sever the bonds created through such interaction. It is an oxymoron: to build it requires reckless abandon & infinite trust as we reveal our deepest weaknesses before the other; yet it is through the stalwart resilience of its members that we are made to feel safe to do so.

Community is spider’s silk.

I was reminded at how perplexing and (at times) absurdly irrational community was this weekend, when I was abandoned in the middle of a mall that I had never been to before in the middle of a part of Bangkok that I had never set foot in before. At the best of times, I find it difficult to assume the role of passive dependent, and being in Bangkok—not able to communicate basically at all with anyone around me—accentuates the stress that such a position puts upon me. I am a rather independent individual, seeking foremost to lead others, then either to follow proactively / cooperatively or to blaze my own trail solitarily. Having to rely on others and wholly to abdicate personal efficacy is difficult, but when this is compounded by being / feeling abandoned by those upon whom you are trusting, my stress really rises.

Often at home in Canada, I felt overlooked, ignored or (perhaps “at best”) obligatorily included in much of my “community’s” activities. I felt that association with me—for the most part—was done strictly out of courtesy and manners than out of genuine interest. Needless to say, such a social position does wonders for one’s self-esteem, and since you’re often forgotten about, you end up having weeks to sit in your house thinking about it as you hear that your “friends” are either out doing something, gone on a road trip or something to that effect whenever you try to contact them. After spending a couple of summers working at a Bible camp in the Rocky Mountains and being exposed to a different sphere of people, I discovered that my social predicament was not all that was available: there could be more; there could be real interaction and real community.

I resolved never to acquiesce to any trend of substandard social treatment again, concluding that a life with little-to-nonexistent but real community was more fulfilling than a life filled with scores of casual acquaintances who made you feel about as welcome and accepted as the mat on the floor which kept the mud from shoes and boots off of the tiles. Since I’ve been well-versed with “mat treatment,” I tend to be rather sensitised to any instance of being treated that way, and since my resolve for anything is about as weak as my drive for oxygen, I have pretty much zero tolerance for such treatment, seeking to remove myself from the situation as effectively as possible. I don’t take well to feeling as though I am an accessory or a tag-along to a group, and when I feel abandoned—as I did this past weekend—my mind is flooded with negative memories and negative emotionality.


Flip the Switch

On the other hand, this morning, I was delightfully surprised to have my roommate run up the stairs, looking for me. He told me that a bunch of people were getting together for morning brunch and that I should come. I’m not sure if he realised how much such an invitation meant to me—having lived the majority of my adult life being (or at least feeling) overlooked whenever those around me were doing anything. Furthermore, having just—not more than 20 hours previous—been assaulted with a strong reminder of how miscommunication and oversight is so caustic to (at least my apprehension of) community, this completely opposite gesture made my heart leap with joy and invigorated my soul. The smiles of welcome and the genuine interest of those that I ate with today were as refreshing as a cool salve on blistering sunburns.


20“My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one.

—John 17:20-22


3We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. 4We write this to make your joy complete.

—1 John 1:3-4

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