Observing a Flaw.

There’s a disabled woman who often frequents the coffee shop at the same time as me on a Monday. She rides in a motorised wheelchair and appears to be wholly dependent on it. She also has strange eyes which move in a way that is difficult to describe but is obviously unusual. And she's the person I’ve mentioned before on this blog – the one who appears to be trying to eat the glass while she’s drinking her cappuccino.

Today I sat idly observing her while I was drinking my own cup of Americano, and an unpleasant thought occurred to me. I realised that I didn’t see her as a human being in the same way as I see other human beings. Instead, I saw a broken facsimile of a human being struggling through a life that is restricted, uncomfortable, and ultimately pointless. It suggested to me that as well as being largely disengaged from my fellow humans, there is also a side to my nature which is callous. I dislike the thought that I might be callous.

In my defence I can say that my view of her was not in any way a judgement, merely a perception. I would afford her the same courtesy and general regard as I would afford anybody else. But I didn’t pity her, much less feel the level of empathy which I tend to feel for other human beings in difficult circumstances. I had, for example, just given some money to a busker because I felt moved by the fact that he was sitting on the hard ground on a cold day, trying to get by in a world which allows those less capable or less fortunate to slide into the gutter. But in all other respects he was normal, while the disabled woman wasn’t. That’s where the callousness comes in, or so it seemed to me at the time.

So what do I do about this? How far can any of us go in changing those aspects of our nature which are fundamental? I suppose we should observe them and make an effort to change our perceptions as far as we are able, because what else is there?