Dialogue In the Dark
The Israeli Children's Museum in Holon houses an exhibit called Dialogue in the Dark. The concept is as genius as it is simple: enter a world completely like your own, except that you can’t see. The exhibit is completely and utterly absent of light.
Imagine that, just for a moment: walking through a marketplace, crossing a street, even riding a boat without the benefit of sight.
Wandering through the exhibit, trying not to bump into mailboxes and bikes, feeling utterly helpless, we can hope to gain a speck of appreciation for what it’s like trying to navigate this fully-lit world without the benefit of sight.
Among other things, this is a lesson in empathy.
We may know intellectually that being blind, or deaf, or wheelchair-bound is a major handicap. Even so, it’s so easy to judge people in that situation. We naturally do that. We make assumptions about what those lives are like, and we arrive at erroneous conclusions. Luckily, sometimes we encounter situations (like this exhibit) that broaden our horizons a little bit, and perhaps we learn to judge a little less.
But what of difficulties that are less scrutable? What of, for example, mental health issues like anxiety or addiction? Sometimes we are more prone to assumption when it comes to mental health. We assume that we know what it's like to be anxious or out of control, we make moral judgements, and we shut down our capacity for empathy and compassion.
If only there was a Dialogue in the Dark for mental health. An Adventure through Addiction, perhaps, or Stumbling through Schizophrenia.
Perhaps then we would have more empathy and more patience for those human beings who struggle differently than we do.
But until that museum exhibit is created, we can curate a dialogue of our own. To do so, we will have to work at it; the entrance fee to this exhibit is open-mindedness, curiosity, and patience.
If you truly want to do this, if you are truly open to meander through the minds of those we naturally judge, here is a suggestion: Try to ask questions.
Ask for understanding. Ask for clarity. Ask with curiosity, not with judgment. Ask: what is it like for you right now, or what was it like for you when that happened?
Ask: what is your internal experience, that part of you that I cannot perceive?
Ask, and you will be surprised. You may not like what you see, but I guarantee you that there will always be more than meets the eye.