By JULES
I'd never spoken a word to her before we sat down in the soft grass of the courtyard. All I'd been told was her name, Elizabeth, which I could hardly remember at the time. We inquired about each other's fears and weakest attributes, daydreams and passions, relationships and future. These were our innermost thoughts, the like of which we'd never dare reveal to the best of our friends. Yet, sharing them with Elizabeth, a virtual stranger, was simply flawless. There's a great comfort between two people, who are completely disconnected from the life of the other, opening up to each other.
It was called the Dyadic Encounter. The root of Dyadic is "dyad", meaning two of a like group. This sort of icebreaker is, by definition, the encounter of two similar people. Now, I can't say for sure if we were specifically paired, even though they claimed we were, or if this exercise is simply full proof. All I know is the entire camp had seemingly found their other half, Elizabeth and I included, through the process. So, clearly it works, because we all realized how wonderfully human we were. It was reassurance that we weren't truly mad, that at least one other person had the same quirks, queries and tribulations as us. That's one of the marvels of the Dyadic Encounter, its a great first day bonding activity, because it gives you a buddy and makes you feel not at all alone.
After all of the like people encountered one another, we all regrouped under a lamppost to discuss our experiences. The mood of that dusk meeting was overwhelmingly harmonious. While, we'd technically only bonded with the person by our side, everyone felt significantly closer to everyone else. Hands were raised in the crowd; people stood and spoke about finding their new best friend and all of the things they had in common. Some people admitted to disagreeing on so many points, but in a way that they seemed to compliment each other. We all agreed that the encounter opened us up to humans outside of what we know. We all got so caught up in our own friends at our own school in our state. Rarely do we ever lend thought to the lives of the people we pass on the street or sit behind on the plane or stand behind in line. Even less than that, do we ever dare discuss those who live in other states. Because, to us they're irrelevant, therefore unreal. Yet, there they were, as real and relevant and relatable as ever. Silence swept over the courtyard as we all drew upon that thought, or something similar. Then Matt raised his hand and rattled on about meeting knew people. He paused and we all thought he was finished. But he remained standing and drew in another breathe, "it makes me appreciate the beauty in strangers."
The idea of such aesthetics in humanity changed the way I spent the next two weeks. When we walked the streets of New York, I'd searched attentively for this beauty. I wanted to see what Matt had seen in me; in all of us. But I was stifled by the outward view. I was too focused on assessing everyone by their attire and gait and posture. I didn't look at them the same way I looked upon the friends I'd made.
It wasn't until the last day of the program that I'd found what I was looking for. We sat pin dropping silent, as instructed, while the motivational speaker of the program, wonderfully named YahYah, over viewed what we'd just experienced. While thunder cracked outside and rain beat against the windows, he spoke to us personally, as he often did. One of the beautiful things about YahYah was he didn't approach our meetings a motivational speaker. Instead, he approached them as a motivational friend. He'd opened up to us on that last day, then he invited us to do the same. "Leave all in the room, leave it all with your friends," he'd encouraged us.
In that meeting I'd learned so much about the people I'd met as, one by one, we rose and spoke about how we'd been changed for the better. Everyone that spoke taught me something new about them, even the ones is known well. Then, Matt spoke. He talked about the close ties he had back home and how seriously he missed them. Once he left, he said he'd miss all of us just as much. Then he talked about his roommate, Charlie. While, I'd talked to Matt a bit during the program, Charlie and I sparsely interacted. All I knew was that he was the youngest boy in the program, about to start high school when summer ended, while Matt was anticipating his senior year. That was a significant dynamic in their relationship. Matt said Charlie had become a little brother to him and that he'd treasure their relationship long after they flew to their opposite ends of the country. He promised Charlie that he'd be there if ever he needed anything. It made me think back to the times when I'd see them together. They truly did act like brothers. And I, as a strict non-cryer, was fighting back tears, because it was beautiful. As cliche as that may seem.
Suddenly, it made sense. The best part of humans is the way we interact with the world. The way we all weave our lives around one another is astonishing. The beauty in strangers isn't how they look or the lives they lead. It's more than all of their personal ticks and ideals. It's the way they see each other, the way they look and me and you and agree that we are beings just as much as they are a being. The beauty in strangers is the way they find the beauty in each other. Once I realized that, everything spiraled in reverse to interconnect. When the many dyads had encountered one another, Matt saw the magnificence in us, strangers, finding each other's charm. When I had my epiphany, I was exposed to the grandeur of Matt and how he discovered the grandeur in everyone. And that is beautiful.
I'd never spoken a word to her before we sat down in the soft grass of the courtyard. All I'd been told was her name, Elizabeth, which I could hardly remember at the time. We inquired about each other's fears and weakest attributes, daydreams and passions, relationships and future. These were our innermost thoughts, the like of which we'd never dare reveal to the best of our friends. Yet, sharing them with Elizabeth, a virtual stranger, was simply flawless. There's a great comfort between two people, who are completely disconnected from the life of the other, opening up to each other.
It was called the Dyadic Encounter. The root of Dyadic is "dyad", meaning two of a like group. This sort of icebreaker is, by definition, the encounter of two similar people. Now, I can't say for sure if we were specifically paired, even though they claimed we were, or if this exercise is simply full proof. All I know is the entire camp had seemingly found their other half, Elizabeth and I included, through the process. So, clearly it works, because we all realized how wonderfully human we were. It was reassurance that we weren't truly mad, that at least one other person had the same quirks, queries and tribulations as us. That's one of the marvels of the Dyadic Encounter, its a great first day bonding activity, because it gives you a buddy and makes you feel not at all alone.
After all of the like people encountered one another, we all regrouped under a lamppost to discuss our experiences. The mood of that dusk meeting was overwhelmingly harmonious. While, we'd technically only bonded with the person by our side, everyone felt significantly closer to everyone else. Hands were raised in the crowd; people stood and spoke about finding their new best friend and all of the things they had in common. Some people admitted to disagreeing on so many points, but in a way that they seemed to compliment each other. We all agreed that the encounter opened us up to humans outside of what we know. We all got so caught up in our own friends at our own school in our state. Rarely do we ever lend thought to the lives of the people we pass on the street or sit behind on the plane or stand behind in line. Even less than that, do we ever dare discuss those who live in other states. Because, to us they're irrelevant, therefore unreal. Yet, there they were, as real and relevant and relatable as ever. Silence swept over the courtyard as we all drew upon that thought, or something similar. Then Matt raised his hand and rattled on about meeting knew people. He paused and we all thought he was finished. But he remained standing and drew in another breathe, "it makes me appreciate the beauty in strangers."
The idea of such aesthetics in humanity changed the way I spent the next two weeks. When we walked the streets of New York, I'd searched attentively for this beauty. I wanted to see what Matt had seen in me; in all of us. But I was stifled by the outward view. I was too focused on assessing everyone by their attire and gait and posture. I didn't look at them the same way I looked upon the friends I'd made.
It wasn't until the last day of the program that I'd found what I was looking for. We sat pin dropping silent, as instructed, while the motivational speaker of the program, wonderfully named YahYah, over viewed what we'd just experienced. While thunder cracked outside and rain beat against the windows, he spoke to us personally, as he often did. One of the beautiful things about YahYah was he didn't approach our meetings a motivational speaker. Instead, he approached them as a motivational friend. He'd opened up to us on that last day, then he invited us to do the same. "Leave all in the room, leave it all with your friends," he'd encouraged us.
In that meeting I'd learned so much about the people I'd met as, one by one, we rose and spoke about how we'd been changed for the better. Everyone that spoke taught me something new about them, even the ones is known well. Then, Matt spoke. He talked about the close ties he had back home and how seriously he missed them. Once he left, he said he'd miss all of us just as much. Then he talked about his roommate, Charlie. While, I'd talked to Matt a bit during the program, Charlie and I sparsely interacted. All I knew was that he was the youngest boy in the program, about to start high school when summer ended, while Matt was anticipating his senior year. That was a significant dynamic in their relationship. Matt said Charlie had become a little brother to him and that he'd treasure their relationship long after they flew to their opposite ends of the country. He promised Charlie that he'd be there if ever he needed anything. It made me think back to the times when I'd see them together. They truly did act like brothers. And I, as a strict non-cryer, was fighting back tears, because it was beautiful. As cliche as that may seem.
Suddenly, it made sense. The best part of humans is the way we interact with the world. The way we all weave our lives around one another is astonishing. The beauty in strangers isn't how they look or the lives they lead. It's more than all of their personal ticks and ideals. It's the way they see each other, the way they look and me and you and agree that we are beings just as much as they are a being. The beauty in strangers is the way they find the beauty in each other. Once I realized that, everything spiraled in reverse to interconnect. When the many dyads had encountered one another, Matt saw the magnificence in us, strangers, finding each other's charm. When I had my epiphany, I was exposed to the grandeur of Matt and how he discovered the grandeur in everyone. And that is beautiful.