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"There were all kinds of people there with their family secrets and their personal secrets, their outer lives of which everything--nearly--was known, and their inner lives of which nothing was known." Tangled Web by L. M. Montgomery
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“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies inside of you.”
~Â Ralph Waldo EmersonÂ
Artwork: Edward Okun, The war and us, 1923
“I have noticed that when all the lights are on, people tend to talk about what they are doing – their outer lives. Sitting round in candlelight or firelight, people start to talk about how they are feeling – their inner lives. They speak subjectively, they argue less, there are longer pauses. To sit alone without any electric light is curiously creative. I have my best ideas at dawn or at nightfall, but not if I switch on the lights – then I start thinking about projects, deadlines, demands, and the shadows and shapes of the house become objects, not suggestions, things that need to done, not a background to thought.” — Jeanette Winterson, Why I adore the night
Believe that everyone has a deep, rich inner life. No exceptions.
Just because someone's inner life is foreign (or repugnant) to you does not mean that they are lacking one. Even if some people are cruel, wretched, and miserable, we've got to believe that they have lives as complex and nuanced as anybody else's. That their lives have led to harming others is more pathetic and sad than anything. Still, we cannot let other people's inabilities to humanize others lead us to dehumanize anyone.
Dehumanization is how we get into the messes we find ourselves time and time again.
I think we are more severe judges of our own acts than professional judges. We judge our thoughts, our intents, our secret curses, our secret hates, not only our acts.'
A Spy in the House of Love, AnaĂŻs Nin
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I have noticed that when all the lights are on, people tend to talk about what they are doing - their outer lives. Sitting around in candlelight or firelight, people start to talk about how they are feeling - their inner lives.
Yet I know that the individuals in the street below me see themselves as epicentres of conscious worlds, the authors of purposes that outrun the course of what is behaviourally evident.  Schemes, fantasies, anxieties, fragments of information, memories, and preoccupations constitute for each person a unique and partially disguised microcosm that I can only guess at.  Creatures of history and habit, to be sure, but in their experience of the world in which they make their way with such blind faith, they are each singular and significant.  Each has friends and families for whom the world would be the less without them.  Each has a story to tell.  It is, therefore, not what they /apparently do/ that wholly defines their humanity – or would suffice as a scientific description of their nature – but what they /virtually experience/ in the course of their actual lives.
Michael Jackson, 1998, Minima Ethnographica: Intersubjectivity and the Anthropological Project, p.25
