I was driving on the freeway and noted the large dividing walls that have been built in recent years between the freeway and the frontage road paralleling it. The space between both is minimal, and the walls are put up for noise reduction and a sense of separation.
It dawned on me as I passed one of those barriers that the perception it gave was one of privacy and a defined differentiation, yet, in truth, the space was merely a grouping of bricks that gave an illusion of separateness to two spaces that were very close to one another.
In the Midwest, I was surprised to see no fences between houses. Back yards and front yards all coalesced, and as a person from a part of the country where fences between houses are standard, I felt naked and uncomfortable with that lack of privacy or separate space.
How often do we put up mental barriers that keep us distant from someone, even though they live in the same home, or are a neighbor, or family member, or office mate? Psychological barriers can be as persuasive as the huge roadway dividers that I passed, giving us the illusion that we are really apart from one another, when indeed we are merely partitioned from each other by the slimmest of definitions.
We tend to go through life in our own little bubble, not seeing or participating in the world around us. Yet, what might be possible if we allowed the rest of the world in?
There is a little post office sub-station in an adjacent town where the “locals” go. Since it is closer to me than the post office in my own town, I go there with the rest of the townspeople and enjoy the comradeship that the place engenders.
One day as everyone was jammed into the little building, spilling out the door to get the new 41 cent stamps, a man came hurrying in to mail a letter, and the gal at the counter saw he only had the old postage on it. She told him he needed 2 more cents, and he was notably taken aback. He had hurried over from his office and didn’t have any money on him or time to stand in line. He was going to run back to get the needed money and come and wait in line- but it was obvious he had hurried to get the letter mailed in the first place.
As all of us watched him, one woman volunteered a two-cent stamp, and the whole line got very quiet. It was a beautiful moment. The man asked her if she was sure, and she assured him she was fine with giving him the stamp. He offered to go back to his office to get the two cents, and she told him not to bother.
There was a real moment of everyone feeling really good about our post office substation and the goodness of one person to another. It was a small thing, but it meant something to both of the people involved and to the rest of us. It made my day! If I’d had a two-cent stamp, I would have offered it, but I didn’t.
The fact that she did and that he was so grateful caused me to reflect on the goodness one person can accord to another, and that lifting an artificial barrier that keeps us separate and apart from one another can offer opportunities to express our humanness and goodwill for each other.
We aren’t a yard that needs defining, or a freeway that needs barriers. We are human beings who can contribute to the wellbeing of each other by taking time to pay attention and interact.