Meeting Me

“If I ran into myself tomorrow on campus, would I like me?” Believe it or not, I actually ask myself this question relatively often. Now, there is validity in the point that this question is not worth my thought because it is, in fact, impossible to meet another of oneself in this life. One may have a twin, or a look-alike, some sort of doppelganger, but I can say for a fact that I will never meet another me.

While all of this is true, I find it a very interesting question. I believe that it reveals much about a person’s inner character and outward impression.

Inwardly, how would I react to another person such as myself? Even with exactly parallel likes, interests, and opinions, would we hit it off, or be more likely to provide support for the saying “opposites attract”? I wonder.

Would I try to impress myself? Somehow I think I might feel the need to prove that I was just as good as my other self. However, it would probably not be a very good idea. Past experience tells me that when it is important that I impress someone—my new, intimidating professor, that cute boy from my ward, the student asking me for homework help, it doesn’t matter—I do it rather clumsily. Usually, after only few minutes of this type of conversation, I feel the urge to scream, “I promise I have more depth than this!!” And I feel like a little bit of a loser.

What if one of me was really on top of my game one day, and the other was tripping over myself especially gregariously? Would I belittle myself, and make me feel stupid? I certainly hope I wouldn’t.

Maybe I would feel comfortable around myself. If not immediately, I’m fairly sure I could quickly learn to. But even then, what if one of me were having a bad day? Maybe I had forgotten to read my scriptures that morning, woke up late and had a bad hair/ makeup day, or was particularly hormonal. Would I be quick to judge, or forgiving and understanding?

Honestly, I think it might depend on my mood. If one me was in a particularly somber mood, while my other self wanted to party it up, I could see me annoying myself greatly. I hope I would be patient with myself though…or at the very least keep my mouth shut.

This makes me wonder if I judge other people too quickly. I probably do. I’m sure I do. Life puts people in too many situations that force an immediate judgment. But I’m sure there are also times where judgment could fairly be withheld. The woman behind me in epidemiology who complains about how hard our upcoming exam will be is certainly very bright. Instead of judging her intellect, I should be sensitive to the fact that she is overwhelmed. That feeling is not a foreign one to me.

The guy who just cut me off in traffic is surely very principled. Instead of thinking of how rude and dangerous his actions are, I should realize that he is probably running very late to work. I am familiar with that type of anxiety too, and often it is for less important reasons than he likely has.

The professor who made a sarcastic comment at me in class is probably very kind. His mind was probably elsewhere; at home, perhaps, because of a family matter. I know what it is like to be distracted by life’s curveballs, even when I have other responsibilities.

By analogy, it seems that if I met myself one day and DIDN’T particularly like me, it would be my fault more than my other half’s. I don’t expect we will be judged at the last day for stumbling over words, having bad days, or getting particularly frustrated with life. I think that our sins of unnecessary judgments and resultant acts of unkindness will stand out much more clearly.

I don’t know how I come off to other people. Some may think I am beautiful, smart, and talented, while others see me as flawed, slow, and clumsy. The truth is, I am a mixture of all six of these qualities and more, and so is every other person I’ve ever met. I guess it’s up to us to find the good others have to offer, and forgive the imperfections. If I can improve just that one thing—seeing others as good, hardworking children of God rather than mistaken mortals only—that will be the one thing that will let me confidently say that I would like myself if I met me. And I would love others better, too.

“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no 'ordinary' people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations -- these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit -- immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.” –C. S. Lewis