Opinions and Birds

An expression not well-suited for polite company compares opinions to a certain part of the human anatomy. Everybody has one, it concludes. Over the years people who know me well have said, in jest mostly, “Why don’t you tell us what you really think, Harold?” I’ve been known to have an opinion or two, a couple of prejudices, more than a small share of attitude now and then. And I’ve done my part toward keeping the art of stereotyping healthy, including my own flock. Even birds express preferences. The ravens that fill the skies around here certainly make themselves heard. I wonder what all they have on their minds. Consider the scolding parakeet as you upset him from his roost to perch on your finger—all for your own pleasure. Or is he just screeching with approval of our human neuroses? Recently, a friend here said jokingly that ravens are known for swearing. Yet another thing we have in common. No wonder they amuse me, make me smile broadly every time I hear their KWAAK-KWAAK, make me stop to locate the source. Yesterday I learned something new from my downstairs neighbor. Close your eyes and follow the sound. I tested it a little this morning. It works, although not so definitively with a flock of small birds.

So what about these opinions we all embrace for dear life? Is having opinions the same as being opinionated. Not really, to me, although I do believe that the conclusions we draw about one thing or another and then make part of our vocabulary, especially in settings where we have the opportunity to sound off, can become downright tiring. Sometimes they offend, especially when we fail to realize that we might be stepping on someone’s toes. We are not always so luxuriously warned to be on guard because someone in our presence is part of a group about which we usually have ignorant, offensive things to say. Not everything is black and white.

I continue to be surprised—at least a little—each time someone who proclaims his or her inclusive attitudes buckles when faced with being branded himself. A few years ago I hung out with a guy I know through summer travels out here. He’s married, with two almost-grown sons now. The next summer he confessed that he had been a little concerned that people seeing us together would think he is homosexual. Then he decided that what people thought about his sexuality didn’t matter to him. I don’t consider myself as particularly exhibiting the common stereotypes associated with gay men.—not that it should matter—but since I don’t go around sporting a scarlet “H”, I shake my head, “gee”. And even though I get it, it still pisses me off a little. A friend last night related a story whose power was built on the speaker’s attempts to belittle someone by suggesting she is lesbian. Cocktail talk, some of the most damaging, hiding behind the liberating effects of a couple of drinks. It’s akin to the bravado some people feel in the safety of numbers.

Now the truth can be fairly complicated at times. These days I like to remind myself of some simple, really good advice I read last year. “Don’t take things personally,” advises Don Miguel Ruiz in THE FOUR AGREEMENTS. What others say about you is really about them. What I distrust in others is about me. Years ago, a friend said to me, “Harold, you’re one of the biggest homophobes I know.” And it’s true, although I have tried to become less opinionated about my brethren, especially concerning those stereotypes so many people have of us. If I’m caught up in one-dimensional thinking at times, what right do I have to expect better from those who probably have at least a little trouble understanding who I am.

Often our opinions, attitudes and prejudices—if I may be permitted one enchilada for all of them—are shored up by the herd we run with. Ultimately, we can’t hide behind the next steer, though. We have to own who we are and what we think. Inclusiveness has been on my mind, especially since it has been at least part of the weekly theme I’ve heard preached and discussed in church over the last several months. If we are charged with loving our neighbors as ourselves and doing unto others as we would have them do unto us—ethical reciprocity it is labeled—there’s not much time left over for nurturing attitudes that separate us. There’s little reason to cling to those comfortable old habits that betray our dark side. Do not do unto others what you would not have done unto you.  

Opinions and Birds—Santa Fe New Mexico (May 21, 2008)

R. Harold Hollis