So, some time ago a friend told me about a particular view held by theologian Colin Gunton... The view that people are, by nature, "iconoclastic." They break whatever image and conception you may form of them over time, for people are created in God's image. I thought it sounded like a neat idea and decided that I probably believed it.
I went home a couple of weeks ago. I always look forward to going home. It's great to see family and friends. Of course, the time spent will not be enough and there will be some disappointments as to someone I didn't get to see or spend as much time with, but that's part of the game. For a number of reasons, I was really looking forward to this particular visit; and so, expectations were set quite high.
How did it go? Iconoclastically smashing.
I got to meet up with a bunch of people; a dinner here, a coffee there, a lunch with someone else. Most of these meetings took place with friends that I have known for years. When you sit and catch up with someone, you continue to learn about them; you hear about their current life situation and in turn how they deal with their present circumstances. This speaks of their character and what kind of person they are; and regardless of how long you've known someone, people will be full of surprises.
Circumstances change. Some friends got married; others became parents. Others grew to the point where I now must look up at them a bit. Some friends moved away from Tulsa and just were passing through during the holidays, just like me.
I got surprised a good deal on this visit.
Some people greatly impressed me and I wanted to spend more time with them in the hopes that a bit of their awesomeness would rub off on me before the clock ran out. Some people I just met, or reestablished contact with, and desperately want to grow the relationship however I can because they're simply too cool to let go.
Other people were disappointing, to put it nicely; "utter let-down" may be a more accurate phrase. I'm not sure what went wrong, but there were several experiences where I came away from seeing someone thinking, "This isn't the person I knew..." I saw things in particular people that caused me to lose respect for them.
And I don't know how it happened. You can meet up with someone that you greatly respect and admire and just listen to them; and somehow, by the end of the time, you're wondering what in the world happened to the person that you thought you knew so well. Were they hiding inside all the time, just waiting to pop out when you weren't looking? Maybe it's a matter of perspective; a few more years and experience could change one's viewpoint. What if it's pride - a bit of self-righteousness and the innate desire to be better than those around me? A bit of everything, perhaps?
I don't know... As I sit here and type this, I hope you can see what I'm driving at. I try not to deal with people in a callous way; I don't want to judge my experiences with others by some sort of mental scorecard. I don't sit and rationally listen to a person and think, "This person is worthy of more respect than I currently have for them; therefore, I shall give it." No! You just sit down and aim to have a good time; and when the encounter has ended and you're walking back to your car, you're left with an impression of the encounter, positive or negative. "That was really fun; I need to hang out with her more often," or "Geez, that was a bust. I may not do backflips to hang out with him again..." Again, that's more of an impression of the encounter than a rational, calculated response.
And so, I have more impressions than responses. Some impressions were extremely positive; others were spitting distance short of depressing. All were, by nature, iconoclastic.
My impressions of people are not final; they are subject to change, by default. When I interact with a person, it's like my mind pulls out a sketch of them and goes to work. The pencil flies over the paper, shading, adding details, rounding shapes, clarifying points of ambiguity; sometimes, the pencil gets flipped and the eraser flutters over the sketch, doing away with slipped strokes and poor portrayals, softening hard lines where strong definition may not exist. When I meet someone new, I start from scratch; when I meet up with an old friend, I pull their picture out of the stack and resume work on it. The longer I know someone, the less my mind adjusts his or her picture; sometimes, the mental artist will sit back and wait for an inconsistency to present itself. When it does, the picture is corrected as it can be; and so the process subconsciously repeats itself ad infinitum. While art can come by rational calculation, it stems from impressions - and impressions make, shape, frame, and change the pictures I have of others.
I suppose one could ask the question, are impressions accurate? Eh... I don't want to address that here. I'm only outlining my process, not deciding whether or not my process is correct. ;)
The pictures will never be done; but in my mind, some became more beautiful this past week. Others lost a good deal of luster. And with the shoe on the other foot, I can't help but wonder... Was the experience as joyous/disappointing for them as it was for me? Maybe I'll never know... But I would ask this of you...
Please don't finish your sketch of me. The subject matter is rather fluid.
