While on our road trip to Wisconsin, the three of us noticed that we carried a special energy with us that acted as a magnet for others' positive energy and openness. Everywhere we went, we received gifts (material and emotional). We felt invincible.
We wondered...what would happen if we could bring our traveler's openness, positivity, and curiosity back home intact at the end of our trip? So often it seems like everything we encounter during our day-to-day routines is already known, unchangeable. But what if we could look on our daily lives with traveler's eyes, so that we experienced everything as the "first time?" Could we re-create that sense of positivity and invincibility and even share it with others?
With this in mind, Ivan, Don Hernan, and I went to Boston's Copley Square on Tuesday afternoon, armed with four chairs and a big poster ("WHAT'S GOING ON? / ¿QUE ONDA?") Copley Square is a borderland...a place where people of widely varying class backgrounds pass through.
Reactions to us varied. Many people were intrigued by our poster and our look, but felt nervous about engaging in conversation. I wondered if they thought we would ask them for money, or present them with a petition. But after a bit of time passed, we had a steady stream of conversation going.
*A pair of older women, visiting from Lynn, who shared their work on helping to pass one of the strongest homeowner's protection laws in the country. Their pride shone out of them.
We wondered...what would happen if we could bring our traveler's openness, positivity, and curiosity back home intact at the end of our trip? So often it seems like everything we encounter during our day-to-day routines is already known, unchangeable. But what if we could look on our daily lives with traveler's eyes, so that we experienced everything as the "first time?" Could we re-create that sense of positivity and invincibility and even share it with others?
With this in mind, Ivan, Don Hernan, and I went to Boston's Copley Square on Tuesday afternoon, armed with four chairs and a big poster ("WHAT'S GOING ON? / ¿QUE ONDA?") Copley Square is a borderland...a place where people of widely varying class backgrounds pass through.
Reactions to us varied. Many people were intrigued by our poster and our look, but felt nervous about engaging in conversation. I wondered if they thought we would ask them for money, or present them with a petition. But after a bit of time passed, we had a steady stream of conversation going.
*A pair of older women, visiting from Lynn, who shared their work on helping to pass one of the strongest homeowner's protection laws in the country. Their pride shone out of them.
*A group of eight Boston teenagers who go to Wellesley schools as part of the METCO program. They were nervous but intrigued, trying to figure out what we were doing there. As we talked about Boston unity, race, and class, a passing bird dropped a series of bio-bombs amongst us. One dude got hit. A blessing or a curse?
*A woman with a striking green brooch, who spoke fluent Spanish with Don Hernan and tried to figure out what our deal was. When she learned that we were not being paid to be there, her eyes narrowed at me.
"Well then...you all must be independently wealthy or something!"
"Yes, but I didn't earn it."
"Most people couldn't do this!"
"I know that, and I appreciate that I have this opportunity."
She had clearly been expecting a fight, but by meeting her accusations with honesty about my class privilege, she lowered her defenses and even shared her own struggle with guilt as the recipient of money from a series of court cases she had won. I saw this willingness to share as a validation of my belief that by speaking openly about class, we can overcome social barriers and allow ourselves to be changed.
*An older man who was a Vietnam veteran. He saw Ivan's Muhammad Ali sweatshirt and shared his experience watching the fight live on TV. He said it was an "invisible punch" that ended the fight, and mimicked the punch to my face, pulling away only at the last couple of millimeters!
We walked back to my car with our chairs and our sign. We hadn't received an "answer," but we had been a part of conversations that had crossed American dividing lines.
*A woman with a striking green brooch, who spoke fluent Spanish with Don Hernan and tried to figure out what our deal was. When she learned that we were not being paid to be there, her eyes narrowed at me.
"Well then...you all must be independently wealthy or something!"
"Yes, but I didn't earn it."
"Most people couldn't do this!"
"I know that, and I appreciate that I have this opportunity."
She had clearly been expecting a fight, but by meeting her accusations with honesty about my class privilege, she lowered her defenses and even shared her own struggle with guilt as the recipient of money from a series of court cases she had won. I saw this willingness to share as a validation of my belief that by speaking openly about class, we can overcome social barriers and allow ourselves to be changed.
*An older man who was a Vietnam veteran. He saw Ivan's Muhammad Ali sweatshirt and shared his experience watching the fight live on TV. He said it was an "invisible punch" that ended the fight, and mimicked the punch to my face, pulling away only at the last couple of millimeters!
We walked back to my car with our chairs and our sign. We hadn't received an "answer," but we had been a part of conversations that had crossed American dividing lines.