Across my dreams with nets of wonder / I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love. — Carmen McRae; Elusive Butterfly
The man next to me in the coffee-house had given me some sharp looks when I entered the big seating room — looks that were repeated as I sat down near him. I finished my blueberry muffin and made room on my table to continue reading a newspaper. The man made eye contact with me, folded his own paper and asked, “Did you read the newspaper today?” He mentioned a column he’d read, and said, “It’s terrible!” I concurred, immediately, but a few words later, realized that what was terrible about the column to him was not the same thing to me: we were at different ends of the issue. I had failed to listen before weighing in with comments, and since I was not in the coffee-shop to find a debate, I left the conversation before it became obvious to both of us that we were not in agreement.
In a pool hall, I heard a man mutter, “English.” I turned to him and laughed, and finished what I thought was the beginning of an exchange from the movie, Pulp Fiction: “Do you speak it?!” It soon became embarrassingly clear that the sound of two men speaking Spanish while shooting pool at another table was the irritant that had produced his pearl of a a comment. “Eight ball, corner pocket,” I replied, completing the game and commentary. Once again, I was at odds with someone’s particular viewpoint, though my initial thought was that we were in agreement.
The company that we choose to keep is often an indicator of the views we may have about a range of issues. I choose to spend time in pool halls, and bars that have pool tables; I love to shoot pool. I’ve had some interesting and challenging conversations in those places, and overheard some disturbing statements, not the least of which was the man bragging about his “AKs,” and claiming to have been “trained as a sniper” at the age of 8. Another man casually used a racially pejorative term to describe his bargaining technique. A complex mix of humans, though pursuing a common interest — pool, for example — is likely to bring together people who may only have the game in common. But in a bar, in the pursuit of the game, I also met Ian Dante and Kaine, gentle souls with a vision. I listened to their story of sharing, and wrote about it in August, 2016, in “The Giving Garden.”
Our casual interactions with each other can often result in misunderstandings as simple as having failed to hear a specific word, to confusion about a political position. The man in the coffee shop may not have known me but the man in the pool room is someone I’ve spent some time with, and off the felt of the pool table, there is much that we disagree about. Even when we know a person well, our common interests may not always be in alignment. A man I’ve known for many years recently told me his opinion about an incendiary issue; I am on the other side of the issue and he believed that his position might anger me. I was not angry, but I have invited him to have a longer conversation, an exploration of our differences, and because I know him and value his presence, I will listen, to learn. For him, I would sing:
Don’t be concerned, it will not harm you / It’s only me pursuing something I’m not sure of which is the elusive butterfly of understanding.