My mother told me once that no matter where you are people are people. It's no revelation, but it's something I remind myself constantly while in Peace Corps. Despite intimidating differences in culture, the people I interact with experience life the same way I do. My fears, my desires, my hope, my sadness, and my happiness cycle through all individuals that share this planet with me. People are people.
When culture gets in the way, I begin to think I'm different. I think I am the only person in the world that ever gets depressed. I think I am the only person in the world that understands joy. How can I relate when I can hardly communicate? How can I understand a life devoted to prayer and salvation? Culture digs deeply into the fabric of society. The subtlest mannerisms and the most powerful paradigms are learned by the population as they grow up. There is no escape from culture. There is also no late access. You can only be born into the club. I can't be accepted if I don't behave accordingly. I have to be very careful. I am an impostor.
Then the idea of culture falls apart. I think about it too much, and I can no longer even define it. Something is not right. I look deeper, past the cultural shell, and the human spirit emerges. I see emotions in people's eyes. Deep sadness hangs over some while triumph bursts from others. The human experience is too intense to be divided according to culture.
Life is a beautiful struggle. Culture provides coping mechanisms to lessen pain and reveal the beauty. I may not understand how it works, but I realize that the local culture is just trying to help people be alive. I incorporate certain local values into my personal culture from time to time, to enrich my human experience. I hope this action is being reciprocated, and that I am helping others appreciate their journey. After all, this is my duty as a human being.
When culture gets in the way, I begin to think I'm different. I think I am the only person in the world that ever gets depressed. I think I am the only person in the world that understands joy. How can I relate when I can hardly communicate? How can I understand a life devoted to prayer and salvation? Culture digs deeply into the fabric of society. The subtlest mannerisms and the most powerful paradigms are learned by the population as they grow up. There is no escape from culture. There is also no late access. You can only be born into the club. I can't be accepted if I don't behave accordingly. I have to be very careful. I am an impostor.
Then the idea of culture falls apart. I think about it too much, and I can no longer even define it. Something is not right. I look deeper, past the cultural shell, and the human spirit emerges. I see emotions in people's eyes. Deep sadness hangs over some while triumph bursts from others. The human experience is too intense to be divided according to culture.
Life is a beautiful struggle. Culture provides coping mechanisms to lessen pain and reveal the beauty. I may not understand how it works, but I realize that the local culture is just trying to help people be alive. I incorporate certain local values into my personal culture from time to time, to enrich my human experience. I hope this action is being reciprocated, and that I am helping others appreciate their journey. After all, this is my duty as a human being.
