This is a mix of thoughts and feelings provoked by many of the recent SFR threads, but it does not directly relate to any of them.. sit back.. relax and enjoy the ride.
So much of what we get out of life seems to be a direct result of how we relate to others.. and how they relate and react to us in return..We often get frustrated with those around us.. trying to understand where they are coming from.. trying to find some common ground but seeming to fail miserably so much of the time. How often have you heard phrases like: "Women are so confusing..." or "Men don't make any sense.." uttered by someone desperately trying to understand the opposite sex? Some people never even get that far.. they are so afraid of what they might find if they explore the infinite diversity of shapes and attitudes that people come in that they insulate themselves from all things different.. frantically trying to prove their dominance... hiding their fear behind a façade strength. They lash out at those things the fear.. forgetting that that fear is not in the object they are attacking..it is inside them.
The world is a different place to a young child.. everything is new. There is nothing quite like the first time we encounter something new... In fact, this is the only time that we really see it for what it is. We have no name for it.. no label, if you will. What is it? what is its purpose? We have so many questions. Later, after we have learned its name.. we lose a part of what it is.. all we see now is the name and not what is behind it. An example:
Everyone close you eyes and picture a flower in your mind.. go into as much or as little detail as you like.. Right now.. all 480 or so list members are each picturing what a flower is in their mind... and I can guarantee you that they are all different.. we each have a different experience of what a flower is, and that experience shapes how we see a flower. Luckily a flower is a physical object.. we can all go pick one out of the garden.. and pretty much agree on whether it is a flower or not. All things are not, however, so clear... when we are dealing with abstractions like 'Love' or 'Hate' or 'Good', we have no physical object to base our view of what it is on. You can't go down to the store and pick up a pound of Love on sale for $3.98 a pound. and if everyone on the list had a different view of what a flower is.. think how radically different our views are on what 'Love' is. 
... Getting back to the label thing now... another example with the flower again: If someone says "I got some flowers.." What does this tell you about what they got? I don't just mean whether they got roses or daisies either.. these are also just labels. How many petals did they have? What colors were they? What did they smell like? How did they make you feel? When you attach a label to something some of the detail.. some of what is important is lost.

There is always a fear, an uncertainty, inside us. It is very easy to look at the world and see all the ways that we have been wronged by it. It seems we always have to look out for people who seem to be unfairly judging us.. attaching their labels to us, and not really seeing who we are. We do it ourselves.. it is almost as though we can't help it. We learn by associating new things we encounter with those we already know. Besides.. Who has the time to get to know each and every person anyhow?
The thing that we forget though, is that despite our infinite diversity, there are common threads of humanity running through each of us. Just as we are afraid of being judged by others, they too are afraid of us judging them.. the distance between us grows as little by little we build walls so sure that they are going to attack us...In reality they are waiting just as desperately as we are for someone to fill the gap between us. It is not judgment you see in the eyes of those around you, it is need.. a need to be noticed and cared about.
People want to be able to tell their stories.. One time an older man very drunk..  and still drinking came up to me at abut 3am while I was waiting for MUNI at a bus stop.. he was singing a bit.. and I joined him in a few lines of "Las Mananitas" (it's amazing what you can learn in High School spanish classes ;-)). And while waiting for the bus, which was late as usual, and didn't end up showing up for a couple of hours we talked. He told me about Mexico and how living there affected him.. and made him who he was today... we started discussing politics.. and I learned a thing or two about why the mexican people do not have the voice that they should... I could have reacted very differently to this strange drunk mexican coming up to me at three in the morning and I would have missed out on all that he had to offer. When the bus finally did come, he thanked me for staying to talk with him... but there was no need. The pleasure had been all mine.

-Faro