Recent viewing of the Japanese film, Okuribito (aka Departures), led me to consider how easily and often our actions may be misinterpreted by others. Attempting not to spoil the plot, I will say only that I was aware of how one character’s deep, abiding love had (for whatever reasons) been unexpressed and unseen and, thus, assumed not to have existed, over much of another character’s lifetime.
I reflected upon my own life and how my feelings in general -- and love, in particular -- have sometimes remained unexpressed, or expressed poorly. I am, by nature, most usually a quiet person (but with an occasionally boisterous side). My silence has sometimes given rise to gross misinterpretations, others thinking I am either very wise or very stupid; my shyness taken for snobbery ‘til I learned how to smile in ways that others could see as welcoming; my inability to speak easily when I feel most deeply often construed as my being uncaring, wooden, unwelcoming, unforthcoming...
My family -- son, daughter-by-love (as well as in-law), 4-year-old grandson and infant granddaughter -- visited here this summer, bringing me happiness beyond anything yet experienced.
But, although joyful in my heart, my body was near exhaustion, in pain, and I was often focused upon my responsibility to create circumstances for them to fully experience the area, somehow becoming the group’s facilitator ("If you want to ____ we need to leave by ___"). And, as I look at the pictures from their visit, I see that I appear stiff, cold, unyielding – the happiness in my heart nowhere to be seen.
As I rapidly age, I fear these pictures are all the youngest will have of me to know: a rather sour-looking old woman holding herself aloof. They will not know the tension in my pose represents only physical discomfort, that my greatest pleasure was simply to have them near.
They cannot know the girl who marched in the Vietnam-era Peace parade and danced to Santana at the Fillmore nor the woman who parachuted out of a small plane or who set off to sail to Hawaii in the 24-foot Columbia Challenger (stopped by high seas, but oh, what an adventure) or traveled to the jungles of Brunei to visit friends; the one who walked the streets of Cairo entranced by those desert Princes striding past with stern and glaring countenance, and the me who sat near the Sphinx under the full moon, lo those many years ago.
They cannot know the hopes and dreams I had ... and sometimes have even now.
So I’m saying (and hearing it myself): Go ahead. Make assumptions – about anything and everyone. Just, please, be aware they ARE assumptions so that, if you choose, you can still continue to search for what may be an even deeper Truth.
And, most of all -- especially when in doubt -- always assume you are loved...