Are You OK? Care and Concern.

Usually, on Sunday afternoons, I'm exhausted from the work week but today, I can't stop thinking about my friend Dan (name changed), who passed on a few years ago. And so, I'm writing to you.

Are You OK? Care and Concern.

See, I worked with Dan, and most people just saw him as some quiet guy who was obsessive about arranging items, stocking, and counting inventory. But in reality, he was incredibly well-read, and he had the sharpest wit. I believed him to be a genius walking around in plain sight, and most people around him were clueless. Because he was so smart, Dan sometimes rubbed people the wrong way; that is, in his mind, the world had a particular order, and if something interrupted his order, on certain days, especially early morning, he became quite disturbed. Quickly, I noticed this about him...

Soon, after I figured it out, I was able to easily interact with him in a way that worked. I'd say, "Dan, I know this is not the time to ask you, because it's morning. I understand, but right now, I need you to check in the back for some yogurt." And he would gaze at me steadily, listen, take it in, and then he'd look sideways, register the change, then move to go get the yogurt. Literally, I could physically see him trying to understand why the order of the day was different. One day, he even added, "Hey, I think, when I first met you, a long time ago, you asked me for something like this, and I'm sorry I got mad."

I changed. He changed. It was really cool, the way we interacted. It taught me so much. A special, innocent, compassionate kind of love. I miss him dearly.

But today, I was thinking about his most unique personality trait. Dan never, ever judged anyone on their exterior. In fact, he didn't notice people's appearances at all. If a girl asked him out, he simply stated, "I only like friends. I'd love to be your friend." And when he told me about the girl, he never mentioned her appearance. He didn't notice makeup, a different haircut, clothes, body types, or anything of the sort. He had absolutely no concept of the popular worldwide notion of "looking good." This idea was absolutely absent from his vocabulary. In a way, it was as if he were viewing everyone as children. There was a certain unique innocence about his whole way of being, and it captivated me.

One day, I had white barrettes in my hair. He asked, "Did you hurt yourself?" I laughed and explained that I changed my hair. He laughed too, but he didn't care at all. His only concern was whether or not I was OK. He was never concerned about how anyone looked.

This quality about him was amazing to me because growing up, I learned this:  even if you're falling apart, you have to look good and no matter what, don't talk about it and don't show your feelings. It's an idea that I've worked hard to shake, but I believe a part of it will always be with me. Dan was a powerful force in my life, and he helped me take a look at myself.

How different would the world be if people worried less about exteriors? I believe that with the younger generation, these ideas are indeed shifting for some in a very healthy way, and it's lovely to see this change in some of the folks around me. 

I've worked hard on my childhood issues but with this one -- this notion of appearance -- I'd like to see more of a change within myself, for sure. I can be incredibly harsh with myself, especially when it comes to my appearance, and it's never helpful. But every time I think of Dan, I think about what he would ask:  Are you OK? Without even trying, innately, his intentions always stemmed from care and concern. Compassion. Beautiful. What if I applied Dan's view to myself? What if I were innocent, caring, and compassionate toward myself? What if we all were...with ourselves and others?

Thank you, Dan. I'm not perfect, but I am OK today, thanks to teachers like you. I bet you're up there smiling, arranging something.

We're in this together.

Love to you,
C.A. MacConnell