I am indebted to
Charlene Afremow
who inspired this conversation.
People make up the darndest things.
It's so pernicious. We blur the distinction between
what's so
and what we make up (ie opine and assess) about
what's so.
We make things up. We make up the darndest things. Really
we do!
When we make things up, if we are honest we cop to that they are merely
our opinions and our assessments. Oftentimes we don't cop to that. We
say, think, and believe that the way we make things up is the way
things are, the way it is. Oftentimes we don't distinguish our opinions
as just our opinions. They are facts. Oftentimes we don't distinguish
our assessments as just our assessments. They are facts. If you are
unflinchingly honest with yourself, you know when you are making things
up. But mostly we are not that honest. We do not tell the truth to that
degree.
We make up that this relationship is not "the one". We make up that
it is better to be over there than it is to be over here. We make up
that we are getting better (which we make up inside of making up that
we are not OK the way we are). We make up that people who are like us
are safer than people who are not like us.
When I first visited these United States some twenty seven years ago I
came to San Francisco for an
interview.
It was lunch hour and the building foyer was almost deserted. While
scanning the tenants register board for the floor to take the elevator
to, I became aware of a black man sitting on a bench in a corner
watching me. He looked like the janitor. After watching me for a while,
he called out to me, asking me which company I was looking for. I told
him. Then he asked me whom I was here to see. Taken somewhat aback by
his brashness, I told him. "Floyd", I said. The janitor stood up and
walked toward me, and I thought to myself: "Thanks, but no thanks. I
don't need an escort.". But he held out his hand to me and he said to
me: "Hello! I'm Floyd.".
My heart skipped a beat. I grew up in
South Africa
during the halcyon apartheid years where I considered myself to be
progressive, a liberal. Yet in that single instant I saw how prejudiced
I really am. The man is black. Therefore he's the janitor. The way I
make it up is the way it is. That is the unquestioned equation in my
mind. I was shocked, caught redhanded. In the next instant it got
worse. With horror I saw that in addition to being prejudiced, I make
up that I am not prejudiced.
Floyd subsequently became my sponsor to the United States, my first
employer here, and my lifelong friend. More great things have become
available to me through Floyd's friendship than through almost any
other person I know. Floyd. The man I made up to be the janitor ...
Because we have for the most part no natural ability to distinguish
between
what's so
and what we make up about
what's so
(unless we generate it for ourselves), pretty soon we make up opinions
and assessments to support facts rather than the other way around. The
inmates run the asylum. Pretty soon we make up something about
everything. We make up that making things up is what is required
to get along in life. Making things up and workability become glommed
together such that both distinctions lose their power. The possibility
of just being with
what's so
without making anything up, without opining, and without assessing is
totally out of the picture.
At some point in my own spiritual hejira I started to notice that I
make things up all the time. Oftentimes to my own chagrin I am
unsuccessful stopping myself making things up. Making things up seems
to be built into the
machinery
of my automatic mind. Yet when I notice that I make things up
when I make things up, there is a new context to relate
from, a new opening for action, and a whole new possibility for being
which isn't available when I don't notice that I make things up when I
make things up.