The skies are clear with the promise for a day of sunshine. As usual, I was up while darkness still reigned supreme. For the first hour of the day, I sat with coffee to watch the subtle shifts from black skies to predawn light. A half hour later, the sun touched the horizon, hidden behind fences, hedges, and scattered houses in this small prairie town. The light was an invitation to step outside the house even though the air was still a chilly nine degrees Celsius.Across the street, and across the empty lot, a house has its lights on. Today is the first day of school for a new year. Normally, the lights would still be off while parents took advantage of the freedom of time and no need for rigid routines. In the summer, when at home with children, every day is Saturday. This scene is repeated in scattered homes along the streets of town.
The other homes, those without children, are mostly filled with older folk, a good number of them retired. Their homes have their draperies closed and lights off. If they wake early, the lights typically remain off with a few daring to open the drapes to stare out their windows without having to worry about anyone seeing them inside their darkened homes. Who is awake and watching? Do we dare step outside of our darkened spaces and risk being seen?
My wife and I have noticed how people, in general, seem to be allergic to being seen. Morning and night, draperies remain closed. When you look at the homes themselves, there is a uniformity, even though there are tiny bits that hint at individuality that have been attempted. Even the colours are muted and copied. It is as though we hide in a sort of visible anonymity. And when we step out of our homes, we carry that sense of sameness in our choices of clothing.
Again, the muted colours, the refusal to take risks and stand out as different. As a people, we struggle with being outsiders, being too visible. Being too easily seen makes on vulnerable, at least on the inside. It doesn’t matter that the community is homogeneous, sharing generations of shared history.
Yet, there are among us, the rare individuals who can’t help being outliers. Simply daring to hold a different viewpoint, to be vocal about and challenge irrationally held opinions is enough to create distance from the status quo. To dare to be seen, curiously, allows one to actually be seen. And it doesn’t result in being shunned or ostracised. To become known as “different” is a risk that for some, backfires. Yet, if one remains open, friendly, and non-judgmental to the “others” it can work out differently. One becomes tolerated as a curiosity,
But what if there is no community? What if we find ourselves in sprawling urban places where there is little evidence of neighbour? The anonymity is magnified. Differences are accentuated and not in a good way. We find ourselves insulated. And too often, we work hard to ensure that we stay anonymous, even to ourselves. The lights turned on are about function, rather than for enlightenment. We hide from ourselves in perpetual shadow.