View from the Sidelines

When I decided to spend some of my sabbatical in Nicaragua I did it because I wanted to stretch; I wanted a hands-on volunteer experience; and I wanted to push myself physically.  But most of all i wanted to be anonymous...so that I could do and act and be myself without others' expectations. 

So I took off to a foreign land with a foreign tongue -- and my lack of Spanish and limited knowledge of the country did indeed keep me on the periphery. All people knew of me was my willingness to help-carry, type, serve-accompanied by an omnipresent smile (BTW this "condition" may have finally been cured: having never hung out in the jungle before, I ate quite a few bugs before learning to keep my mouth shut!).

I went into this experience trusting anonymity would bring me quiet and invisibility, freeing me from the responsibility to join the crowd without a need to avoid the crowd.  I learned that when anonymity is a choice it is a right and an opportunity.

I was struck by the clarity of perspective and perception that I experienced as an anonymous voyeur. I gained heightened meaning from tones, physical gestures and actions. I became a relentless observer. I laughed, not because I got the joke, but because I wanted to be in on the fun. My humanity had to be expressed through my eyes and touch. I intuited and synchronized my moods to those around me. I noticed much more quickly who was in pain...who had got beautiful eyes...who led and who was being led.

I recognized the attitude of adolescence worldwide and the grace that comes with age. I inhaled weird smells, notice interesting foliage and hear strange sounds. I got to know - and if I was lucky, understand - my own thoughts.  All of this I was able to share via my blogs, even as I struggled to articulate in person.

Being anonymous also meant that no one missed me when I was not there; my inclusion and input were not germane.  I saw how, if anonymity were not a choice, its evil underside can be isolation and illegitimacy. 
 
I guess you might think that I could have gained this clarity and perspective without going to Central America. You're right.

I guess you might remind me that in every room there is always an anonymous person who's thinking and feeling and watching much as I have described. Again you would be right. 

I guess you can tell that I have gotten used to being known and am usually somewhere near the center of things.  You're right. Yet I knew that right here, right now in my life, I needed to experience the realities of silence and obscurity. I needed to be on the sidelines.  

I'm home now, rested and grateful. These lessons were poignant, and with the help of my friends, I hope to remember them. And to always look -- and look out for -- the anonymous among us.