Life is a solo journey

Part 1 of 2

I remember someone (and I really have no idea who) telling me that life is a solo journey, we just have co-travelers that join us for 30 seconds to 30 years. They said it more gracefully than I can, but their point was this: you are the only person who will be in your life from birth until death, for every moment of it. No one else in existence will have your same unique view, because no one else will have been shaped by your exact life experience. This is, most likely, the least original thought in the world, and yet, one that really hits me as important.

Why would such an unoriginal, easy to assume statement strike me as so pressing to discuss? First and foremost, because I find myself forgetting it constantly, and our life experiences shade our lenses in ways so subtle that we forget it to our peril. Second, because we cannot make all our decisions based on how other people feel or might react. We are the ones who will live with the consequences of our choices, and we would be wise to remember that.

Most of you probably do not remember my paternal grandmother, or Granny as you used to call her. She was a wonderful grandmother to my brothers and me when we were growing up. It was not uncommon for us to show up to her house and find little treats hidden to surprise us. These generally were not big items, maybe a Hot Wheel car from a garage sale, or a small candy each. She had a knack for finding little treasures at garage sales, and thrived on buying little junky trinkets and treats from the Dollar Store. As a child, I absolutely loved it. When I started collecting Pez dispensers, she would pick them up whenever she found them on sale, whether new or used.

Gradually, this quality stopped being quite so endearing. When I was living in South America for a few years, I had to fit all my possessions in two suitcases, as I moved apartments every few months. It was not the easiest task in the world, living with all my worldly possessions fitting into two suitcases, and yet I managed. The problem came when I would get little care packages, which from most people, consisted of treats I could not get where I was, such as Mambas, Mountain Dew or Flaming Hot Cheetos. Basically, all the junk food that a twenty year old might miss while living abroad. Not Granny’s. Her care packages consisted of Pez dispensers she had found at garage sales, sans candy, and with no place to store them.

This is fine, but then I would have emails from her asking if I liked them, and asking for photos of where I kept them. I truly do not know how she missed that I stopped collecting Pez dispensers at twelve years old, or how she thought I was storing these, but whatever had happened, I was left in the awkward situation of trying to explain why they did not travel to each new apartment with me.

Please do not think I am complaining about Granny. She was a truly wonderful, generous person, and an amazing grandmother. More than anything, I found it baffling. She was aware of my circumstances, and how I was travelling. She knew I had no extra space, and moved frequently. She still sent those Pez dispensers.

When we helped her move out of her home of 30+ years due to health reasons, we discovered stashes of things no reasonable person would keep. Apparently Granny was a secret hoarder. Her house was never messy, or cluttered, and her little stashes were well labelled and tucked away. It was just confusing why anyone would keep every single gift bag and ribbon every given, assuming it was in good enough shape to re-use; especially because she never reused them, instead purchasing gift-wrap, bags and ribbons from the Dollar Store by her house. I also failed to understand why she had a secret doll collection, perfectly maintained, and yet hidden away.

All of this was very confusing, until my Dad pointed out that she was a product of her upbringing, and I remembered that my Grandma had always said she never had her own doll growing up, instead they had one to share between her seven siblings, or at least the four girls. Granny had grown up poor, on a farm in North Dakota. Apparently, these experiences left such a mark on her that despite being financially fine as an adult, she could not bring herself to part with anything that may be useful, or get rid of her stashed collection of dolls.

I cannot begin to understand her state of mind on this, because I did not grow up right after the Great Depression, with seven siblings, and a need to recycle everything that was potentially useful, lest we do not have enough to make it through another winter. Even knowing her upbringing quite well, given that we used to sit and discuss her life often, I still failed to appreciate where she was coming from.

How often do we do this? I would guess more often than not. I respond to a situation in a given way, because that scenario elicits memories and reactions specific to my experiences; experiences that create a historical tapestry that is mine, and mine alone.

Whenever I witness an event, am told a story, or participate in an interaction with others, I bring with me the lessons and baggage unique to my own background. This history overlaps with others, but only at specific times, and never in its aggregate. My older brother and I share similar upbringings, given that we are less than two years apart. We still could not be more different. In contract, I have fewer experiences in common with my younger brother, as we are closer to four years apart, and my parents were in very different places when he was old enough to remember.

There is a term used for forgetting this simple fact, and its definition succinctly describes the consequences: projection. Projection, according to one dictionary, is the unconscious transfer of one's own desires or emotions to another person. To forget that other people’s lives have played out uniquely is to forget they have a differing lens shading their world view, or a different way of framing what they see. We then project our own ideas, feelings, or attitudes to other people or to objects, leading to misunderstandings.

By assuming that other people have my exact experiences, or even similar ones, I assume they should have the same wisdom and draw similar conclusions. When they do not, it is possible, or even likely, that I will become frustrated, judgmental or less empathetic. The assumption is that I, as a logical (but am I really?) person, am responding in a rational and reasonable way to a situation. Others, by responding differently, are clearly responding irrationally or unreasonably. And that may be true, if they saw it as I did; but they do not.

Here is an example. I do not do debt. This is due to the fact that I saw what being indebted did to my parents when I was young. A good friend of mine watched his father start business after business, leveraging low interest debt to grow them. My friend now has a variety of properties purchased with other people’s money, something that would cause me to feel stressed. He is not stressed, and in fact, to the best of my knowledge, is rapidly growing his wealth, as well as his residential real estate portfolio. He is not wrong to do this. If anything, my risk aversion in this area is mistaken, and has probably cost me opportunity. I would still prefer to live a stress free life, with an extremely low interest mortgage on a modest home as the only debt we ever carry. He is right for him, and is most likely correct from an objective perspective. My choice is, I believe, right for me because I would live with constant anxiety from carrying any unnecessary debt. What is left to do? Agree to disagree and chalk it up to different life experiences.

Whenever you find yourself unfairly judging others, take a step back and ask if you are projecting onto them. More often than not, I suspect you will discover you have made a large number of assumptions based on your own life, disregarding that most to none of those are applicable to this other person. To be charitable, we must treat each person as a unique individual, with an unmatched and unprecedented life history. Once you remember that, you are aware that prior to understanding and cooperating with others, we must first find the experiences and views we share. This establishes a common ground as a starting point. Without that, we will never move forward.

Love,
Dad