On Being Weird

Recently our book club read Sarah Bakewell’s most excellent “At the Existentialists Café,” a study of the 20^th century development of existentialist thought. Though she traced its roots to phenomenological philosophers, her study focusses mainly on the partnership of Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir and the ways in which they and their contemporaries articulated a substantially new perspective from which to consider life, morality, and action. I enjoyed Bakewell’s writing and interests enough to purchase an earlier book of hers, “How to Live: A Life of Montaigne.”

I had heard of Montaigne but had never examined what he was about. He was just one of those names of influential 16^th century French Renaissance thinkers. Looking into Bakewell’s book, however, I quickly have seen that here is a man who will become one of my all-time heroes, standing in my personal pantheon together with Samuel Pepys, Shunryu Suzuki, and Victor Klemperer. Sometime after a near-fatal accident Montaigne began to write a series of what he coined “essays,” pieces in which he examined his own behaviour and that of others, and most especially, the fluctuations of his own mind, what we now call ‘stream of consciousness.’ He could see that our thoughts and emotions are various and multiple, flowing into areas of certainty and of confusion, of calm and of anxiety, of purpose and of despair. His reflections led him toward a most practical approach to life, one entirely in accord with the current mindfulness movement: live as much as possible in the moment; be aware of but not overthrown by your own emotions and your own ideas or seemingly ‘crazy’ thoughts. Accept them all as a part of being human and know that all humans partake, each in his or her own fashion, of these inner fluctuations. This is what I think of as accepting one’s own manner of being weird.

Some years ago a woman in one of my groups spoke of how she often felt herself to be so different from others around her. The people whom she knew seemed for the most part to “have their shit together,” as she put it. Inwardly she experienced herself as filled with contradictory thoughts and emotions, things which she would never share even with friends out of fear of being perceived as too strange by far. I asked the members of the group to raise their hands if they had ever felt this way. All of us, myself included, put up our hands, acknowledging that we also felt not just ‘odd,’ but downright weird at times. Saying so felt ever-so liberating. It’s become somewhat of a joke in my family to not just admit to, but even to glory in our weirdness. My granddaughter Billie says how much she likes weird. To her it’s almost a badge of honour, a personal distinction.

If we know and are accepting of ourselves as the repositories of contradictions on many levels, even though we manage fairly well to live our day-to-day lives and to handle our responsibilities, it becomes infinitely easier to be understanding and accepting of others whose particular forms of weirdness or otherness differ from our own. In simpler societies individuals who deviated more significantly from the norm were quite often tolerated, even in some cases celebrated for the contributions that their ways of being brought to the society. A case in point: the acceptance of eccentrics is far wider in Britain than here in North America.

I’m just beginning to dip into Bakewell’s reading of Montaigne, but even the introductory chapter has impressed me with his 18^th century example of how to live. My current take-away: accept your own distinct ‘weirdness,’ and that of your friends; rather than fearing it, celebrate the manner in which it reflects the unique being that is you.

Welcoming Our New Canadians

Our refugee family arrived in Toronto from Turkey on Wednesday evening. They were in a state of exhaustion, having been travelling for over 25 hours. Mary Jean (another member of our Annex Support Group which is sponsoring them) and I waited in the arrivals area for a couple of hours while a member of the facilitating organization, Humanity First, assisted them through the immigration process. I received a phone call about 9:30 that the family was cleared and waiting for us near the tall blue clock standard. And there they were: a family of four – parents and two daughters aged twelve and sixteen. We had so little information about them, other than their names and ages, and of course they had none about us, so that our coming together in that moment shared in both a real and physical reality, and, a strangely mysterious combining of people who from that moment began to share an important and on-going relationship of family and of citizenship. It was truly like being part of a birth.

We were all tired but happy and still had lots to do before the family would be settled. I had come to the airport by TTC and MJ had brought her large van. We had not expected that the family would have much baggage in tow but we were oh, so wrong. Sixteen bags filling four of the airport carts stood ready for transportation. Oops, what to do? MJ would take the family. I would get a taxi to transport the luggage and me to my condo on Christie. There we would separate out the pieces that were required for immediate needs, leaving the others in my apartment. But just a moment: another unexpected twist – a childhood friend of the dad and his twelve-year old son had also come to the airport to greet the family. Confusions and missteps ensued but within an hour or so the luggage was piled in my building’s lobby; MJ arrived with the family and with the friends right behind. A new plan: the friends would take the excess baggage to their place and all of us, in the two vans, would proceed to the Neill Wycik residence, the family’s first place of entry. At the residence we checked them in to their four-bed bedroom, one room of a “quad” of five bedrooms, complete with two common bathrooms and a common kitchen. MJ had provided food and drinks for them in the kitchen and had left a rotating fan in their room as air conditioning was not laid on. We left them in their room shortly before midnight sitting about on two of the beds with their friend and Sam, his 12-year old, enjoying just being on the ground, and having a bite to eat before giving in to their inordinate tiredness.

Our family originated in Iran. As Christians, they had experienced increasingly difficult conditions as the country had becoming more militantly Islamic. Five years ago they fled to Turkey and until a few days ago lived in a refugee camp near Ankara. They experienced discrimination in Turkey as well. At school the girls were harassed to such an extent that their parents decided to keep them at home. Because of this, the girls are several grades behind their age cohorts. Saba, the younger girl will be placed in a grade consistent with her age and will be given extra help at her school to bring her up to speed. Sadaf, the 16-year old will be given a day-long battery of tests in early September to assess her skills. She will also be placed in an age-appropriate class and given the help she needs. The girls are somewhat anxious about starting school but were relieved to hear that there are hundreds of children their ages in Toronto going through similar transitions. Both seem bright and ready for new adventures. Sadaf alone in the family, has some working knowledge of English. Happily, their friends, especially Sam, the 12-year old is quite fluent.

Though we had begun our quest to sponsor a family over a year ago, we were assigned one only a couple of months ago. A week before their arrival we were notified of the date. Then began a scramble for housing. We were able to secure a two-bedroom basement apartment in a house close to the Downsview subway station, owned by a couple who themselves are children of immigrants – one Korean and the other Philippian. They accepted the family in the spirit of helping out and giving back. Unfortunately the apartment is not available until September 3^rd. Thus the Neill Wycik arrangement. That will last until August 28 because Ryerson students will then take over the building. We had been looking at a few options to span the intervening six days but their friends plan to keep them at their place. Problem solved.

The morning after the arrival Mark, Linda, Arel and I came to the residence to have a meeting with the family. The wife of a friend of Mark’s, Meeshy, who is also from Iran came along with a couple of Persian friends of hers who are visiting from Germany. The family friends were there as well. With the help of Meeshy’s Farsi, we were able to run through some of the information that they needed: the housing plans, school, ESL classes for the parents, and, the government guidelines with respect to housing and maintenance costs and how they would be facilitated. We asked if they had questions for us or things they wanted to tell us. It was during this exchange that we learned about the reasons they had sought asylum and about their concerns regarding the girls’ education. They asked what organization we belonged to and were very pleased to learn that we were a group of Canadians who had joined together to sponsor their way. Their faces lit up with recognition that we had chosen to bring them to Canada, that we wanted as private citizens to welcome them and to befriend them.

After the meeting Mark, Meeshy, and I took the parents to a close-by bank to help them open an account and get debit cards. The girls were taken off by Sam to walk about the downtown area. When we were finished at the bank, we offered to take them back to the residence but Majid, the dad protested. No, he was clear about where they were and that they would find their way back on their own. The energy and humour in his face as he said this underscored the sense that I had already that these people will in fact find their way into life in Canada.

Tonight Linda is hosting a party at her place for them, the invaluable friends, and the support group. It promises to be fun. Tomorrow morning Kathleen, Bob, and I will go with them and their friends to the Humanity First office for a meeting. Sam will likely be the interpreter. There the government guidelines and expectations for the family will be outlined with respect to learning English, schooling, and gradually getting employment and becoming self-sufficient. Over the next few weeks there will lots of other things to attend to: moving, even getting rid of some of the excess furniture that our group has collected and stored around the GTA; moving the family into their new apartment; getting the kids into school and arranging ESL classes for their parents; and etcetera. I think that we and they have made a good beginning and we look forward to getting to know each other better.

Thank you to all who have contributed in a variety of ways to our bringing the family into our truly wonderful country.