You will be wise not to seek too much from others

For lunch, Eric and I decided to try out the Sunday buffet at our favorite local Chinese restaurant, Tau Tau.  We went there for dinner a few weeks back.  It was a very relaxing meal, complete with a small taste of orange sherbet and warm damp towels at the end.  The buffet today didn’t include these perks, but it was enjoyable all the same.  It’s a small buffet, which in some ways is nice.  None of the food was cold and nothing looked like it had been sitting for most of the morning.  They had real chopsticks for use, rather than those wooden disposable ones.

My favorite part of any Chinese dining experience is receiving the fortune cookie at the end.  I’m not sure why I enjoy this experience so much.  The cookie isn’t particularly tasty and the fortunes, in recent years, have become mere statements of fact, rather than a look into the future.  Typically, I read the fortune and then toss it across the table to Eric saying, “How is that a fortune?”  

Today’s cookie fortune, however, I silently put into my pocket to return to later.  My cookie came with the following advice, printed in red and seated between two smiley faces: “You will be wise not to seek too much from others.”

I first found it darkly charming that these words were surrounded by the smiley emoticons.  Most fortunes do, if I remember correctly, but this set, in particular, seemed to mock.  Whether they mocked me or the fortune I can’t be certain.  With certainty I can only say that it seemed so conflicting to present such a grim message regarding the reliability of others, with a smile. 

Smile or not, I held on to these words, in my pocket all day.  I hate to sound morose, but I believe in these words.  I believe there is much to be gained from standing on your own two feet and I also believe that people, for better or worse, cannot always be relied upon.

On the one hand, I tend to be a rather independent person. I like to figure things out for myself and I like to do things my own way.  I resent people who are too quick to tell me how they would do something and I can quickly become impatient with those who offer advice before I ask.  To be honest, I find it insulting.  This response, I believe, was instilled in me from childhood.  My parents were quick to challenge me to find my own solution to problems, to be resourceful and to think critically.  I believe I am a better person because of these experiences.  Thus, I think it’s true that one is wise to not seek too much from others; some things can only be learned through independence, and personal perseverance.  You can’t just have everything handed to you–not even if the person handing things out is doing so out of great love and kindness.  

The other reason I believe in the fortune from that cookie is simply because others are, as a rule, limited in their abilities, particularly in their abilities to give of themselves.  People like to be in their comfort zone.  They like to do what makes them feel best and most safe, most of the time.  I’m included in this lot.  As a result, it is difficult for me to really expect too much from most other people.  I say most.  I expect a great deal from my husband.  He took a vow saying he would do many things which are often difficult.  Others, however, haven’t; yet I think we tend to romanticize the role of other people in our lives.  I think I watched Now and Then too many times as a youth.  I somehow got this picture of lasting, selfless friendships that start from birth and continue with you until old age. I grew up believing in community, in people taking great interest in the lives of those around them.  This was true of my hometown community, but I have hardly seen traces of it since I became an adult.  Perhaps I’m responding to the changing state of our nation.  People simply don’t stay in one place anymore.  People devalue living, breathing people just two doors away for those they’ve reached out to on the Internet or even through their video game consoles.  People let their work and careers consume them.  People are busy, too busy.  We let our relationships fade.  I’m busy, too busy.  I let my relationships fade.

Separate, Daring.

My husband, Eric, and I went to Fountainhead Regional Park yesterday.  It wasn’t a beautiful day to be on the water.  It was dreary.  The park was abandoned but by the two of us, a few dedicated fishermen, and two young men running the bait and tackle shop.  We walked out onto the pier and stood there for quite some time.  It had recently rained, so  despite the many wooden benches throughout the park, there was no place to sit.  This fact bothered Eric little.  He had brought his camera and was deeply engaged in capturing the bleak moments of the park after rain.

I had a volume of Joan Didion with me that I had intended to read, but I never feel content reading while standing, unless it’s aloud, as part of my teaching.  So, I stood there and took in the the scenery.  Fountainhead boasts the widest part of the Occoquan Reservoir.  To the right of the pier, you could see the river narrow as a small branch traveled off into the North.  Straight ahead, I could take in the expanse of the reservoir.  One tree, in particular, caught my eye as I gazed off into the distance.  I pointed it out to Eric, hoping he too might find it worthy to capture with his camera; the resulting photograph stands as the header of this blog today; other moments are available at his own blog.

This tree really kept my attention.  I was struck how it seemed drawn to the reservoir; it dared to dip its branches far more closely to the water’s edge than any other tree. It was separate and daring; it somehow managed to command our attention, far more than even the lively, hissing goose in the water merely a foot away.