Sometimes, the roles we inhabit can box us in or weigh us down.
If I’m with my children and slip into “dad” mode and they into “child” mode, our interactions too easily head down well-traveled paths.
If I meet you for the first time across a checkout counter, my “customer is always right” meets your “My Name is Betty.” You’re not a person to me, and I’m not a person to you.
And yet, we can also find common cause and comfort in our shared roles. These imperfect avatars of our piece parts (father, son, daughter, coach, elder, sangha member . . . ) are also reminders that, in this one way, you are just like me.
And I am just like you.