Pooka Privacy

Pooka Privacy
I was talking with Harvey yesterday and he made a very good point. People are seldom what they seem, he said, but we seldom seem to need to know who they are. Not that we never might not be safer to identify the deeply hidden lunatic or sociopath lurking amongst us. But the occasions which would make much difference to us personally are so rare that the investment of nervous energy to it will generally be wasted if repeatedly applied to everyone we meet.

Perhaps that is why I pay so little attention to people beyond the demands of courtesy. Courtesy is an important shield for both the wielder and the recipients seeing themselves in its shining surface. Harvey says so too and he is one of the most courteous beings I know. Oh, sure, he likes his little jokes, but he only pranks to help people, not to hurt or humiliate them. A bit of humor does not contradict the unfathomable sincerity of courtesy. It merely serves to bring attention back to the surface of what is seen and said and to remind us only internally of the mysteries and absurdities of what lies unseen and unsaid beneath.

But can we live our lives knowing people by what they publicly show and tell or do we need to know their inner beings? Who has permission to peek behind our (Jungian) character masks to glimpse at the selves even we often do not know? Do we grant this permission or is it the natural right of others to feed their curiosity and suspicion in precaution for their safety and security? Certainly our curiosities and anxiety-driven motivations are natural enough, but is trust not an evolutionary compromise to allow our species to cooperate rather than to skittishly remain frozen, unable to turn our back to our fellow Man?

Privacy has never been a big concern for Harvey, but he respects discretion. If folks have a story to tell, well, he’s all ears, so to speak. But if they prefer friendless silence, he will readily seek the more welcoming company of others. Nobody ever met and parted friends with a more convivial stranger than Harvey. He quietly accepts what others offer with the importance they place upon it. Infrequently, he may reciprocate, but not compete, with his own tales, whether truthful, fancy, or some proper blend thereof. But it is his willingness to listen to any and all who so often found themselves misheard, marginalized, or ignored which quickly endears him to them.

Harvey says it is the simple courtesy of acknowledging that anyone may have a story awaiting an airing, whether to share our human experiences of joy, grief, or inexplicable fortune, good, bad or not yet known. The storyteller has a license to withhold or to embellish his tale beyond simple truth, to don whatever masks his players require to animate their actions, and to set the stage as a frame for our attention. We, in the world surrounding the individual, are best served by our patience to listen from our seats in the theater, not by any desires to storm the stage and shut down the presentation. Wait for the Q&A, he says. A teller in a good mood from a receptive audience may be even more revealing (and entertaining).

Does an invisible Pooka in the room put people off? It only seems to bother some people when they know he is there and many others do not sense any malevolence either knowing of his presence or not. After all, they say, he is not listening to anything we are not saying to others already and who is he going to be able to tell?

But the troubled ones see it differently. The Pooka is uninvited, they say. Our public stories are only semi-public occasions to be relayed to our privately selected audience. Not that we have anything to hide, of course, they say, but we learned in grade school that etiquette requires that nobody in the chain is allowed to read a passed note except the recipient (unless the teacher spots its passage). It simply is not playing by the rules, they say. Nobody likes a tattle-tale. Mind your own business.

Well, Harvey knows who he is and what he does, so it does not upset him when some folks feel him step on their toes. He may be big, but he treads as light as air. His mission is to lend an ear to the neglected. People do not need to fear him. The Bogeymen will cause enough mischief to the deserving without his help.