Imperfections

I don't need to see you to know you're beautiful.

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I'm starting to lose track of the days.

the roomie and I on the way to the Feast

I feel like I've been living here for a month, and each day is so packed with activities, that by the time the day ends, I feel like I have spent a lifetime learning and trying to absorb everything they throw at us.

Today's main event was The Feast.

While this sounds like a large get together where everyone eats to their heart's content, do not be fooled, Minerva does nothing unintentionally- or half assed.

We did have food, and it did include all of the students and staff, but the whole process took place in pitch darkness. I literally could not see my hand in front of my face after they blindfolded us and led us to our seats.

There were eight of us at the table; a couple of people I knew before, and a couple were completely new to me, but as we talked, it became clear that this experience was nothing subtle. After eating our food, which was okay at best, Mike gave us three reflection prompts:

1) What is something that you are proud of?

2) What is something that you are grateful for?

3) What is something you want by the end of the year?

The questions seem pretty straightforward, but something about not being able to see the face of the person sitting in front of you made the whole experience of sharing your thoughts more...volatile.

People shared things that simply would not have been said to a stranger you met seven minutes ago. The darkness not only veiled their faces, but it veiled my own, and while that created a sense of security (because if people can't see you, they can't really make a snap judgement) it also unknowingly made everyone more susceptible to being vulnerable. It forced your impression of the other person to be formed based on their thoughts and stories, rather than their hair, or their clothes, or what they looked like.

Our discussion was very bittersweet. I didn't realize how similar our stories were, and the more I talk to people at Minerva, the more I realize that these people are from the corners of the earth, yet share the same essence of striving to be better people. We grew close and appreciative and humble, and we did it together in the darkness through the still air between us.

A note we passed on the way to the Feast

I thought this was deep reflection, and then of course Mike had to pull out his mike (ha joke) and add another layer onto this already dense moment.

All the food that we ate came from the farmers market.

All the food that we ate, was ugly produce.

All the leftover fruits and vegetables that were not "pretty" enough for people to buy, were what we ate for dinner- in the dark. And obviously nobody noticed.

The point was we all have imperfections, no matter if we are food or human. There were bruised avocados and weirdly shaped tomatoes, but we still ate them, and we still couldn't tell the difference- because their appearance is not really what mattered.

The taste of a fruit should not change based on what it looks like, but so often it does. In the same way, our judgement of a person should not depend on what they look like.

And so often it does.

The beauty of the exercise was the fact that in the absence of all of these distractions, the true essence of each person was illuminated in those moments. What we realized with our food, we realized with people.

And I realized that I don't need to see you to know that you are magnificently beautiful.