To Be Human

Back in November, my sister Beth was on her way to get her scuba certification off the coast of Mozambique. In order to complete the course, she had to have a doctor sign off on a standard medical form, pronouncing her fit for…whatever it is you do while scuba diving. After an absurdly long wait in the patient’s room, even by African standards, the doctor struts in and asks her what’s wrong. She explains she’s perfectly healthy, and really just needs a report to prove it. He looks at her from under his glasses and grunts: “I’ll be the judge of that.” After a few tests and procedures, he hands her a tube to breathe into. She takes a deep breath and puffs. “400. Not good enough. To be human you have to reach 500.” She tries again, taking a deeper breath and really giving it all she’s got. “400. If you want to be a human, you have to get to 500. Try one more time.” She reasoned, if not only her scuba certification, but also her very identity as a member of the human race depended on this next puff of air, she better at least stand up. Deep breath. Practice blow. Deeper breath…and…WHHHOOOOOO….. “Still 400. Will you have oxygen for scuba diving?” “Of course.” “Oh. Ok. You’re fine.” He stamps the word “approved” on her form and sends her on her way. Maybe it takes a little more than the inability to make a little arrow reach the number “500” on a breathalyzer to strip one of his or her place in the human race.

I spend a lot of time – perhaps an inordinate amount of time – trying to grasp what it means to be human. Because, see, it doesn’t come all that naturally to me. I’ve never been as good at being human as others are (yes, it is a competition. It’s always a competition). Some people are naturals. Some of us struggle. I’ve spent the past two work days watching an absurd number of Mr. Bean episodes, and I can’t help feeling some empathy for the poor guy. And a little for me, too. Because I’m kind of like that. Kind of like him. You know that natural social translator/filter you people have? I have, like, half of one. It’s there – just not all the way. So I spend a lot of time watching. Watching, and gathering information. That’s how I learn about people, and about the ways you do or do not behave in social settings. It’s trial and error, really. But I can kind of keep it a secret. If I’m careful, I can be like everyone else for a little while. Blend in. Which is handy if you don’t want to make a scene. As I get to know people, I start to feel the freedom to, you know, not fit in. One of the first things I said to Mindy the week she arrived in Korea was: “Thank God you’re here! I’m so tired of pretending to be NORMAL!” To which she laughed, and replied: “Seriously? There’s no way you could have pulled that off for 6 months. Haven’t they caught on yet?” I think maybe some of them had.

I noticed recently that one of my all-time favorite books (The Little Prince) and one of my all-time favorite movies (Martian Child) revolve around a similar theme. Both deal with children who come from (or think they come from) a different planet. They’ve come to earth to try to discover what it means to be human. It fascinates me: humanity. Humans can be so inspiring – so heroic, noble, intelligent, and selfless. But then you see their other side. A side that is willing to hurt others, maliciously. A side which can be cruel, vile, vulgar, and petty. And then I start thinking: Who wants to be human anyway?” It’s at this point that I have to delve back into what I’ve learned from all my watching and gathering, and try to figure out what exactly it means – the whole human thing.

There are lots of answers. The Little Prince claims it has everything to do with learning to waste your time on the right flowers – or, you know, the right people. The Martian Child would say humanity comes out of our ability to belong, one to another - to reach across a senseless universe and love each other. And then there are other sources. The show Heroes once told me that the thing that separates Man from the beasts is his ability to remember, and to learn and grow from those experiences (which would be GREAT news for my humanness). CS Lewis uses his novels to suggest it is man’s ability to reason – to adhere to logic – that sets him apart. Obviously, he would register as a T on the Myers-Briggs scale. The Feelers reading this might prefer the theory that it is compassion that makes us human. Humans are the only creatures to feel compassion – to care outside of themselves, and for reasons unattached to survival instincts. Those who have watched a herd of horses gather around one of their own as he stands at the pasture gate, screaming for three straight days after his friend was sold to a new owner, may have different opinions. To long, to grieve, and to share another’s burden – these are not reserved only for Man and his offspring. But perhaps that is simply empathy, or even sympathy, and compassion means something more?

And then there’s a new one I read a week or two ago. I really like this one. It’s in the introduction to Three Cups of Tea, and David Relin is relating a journalist’s duty to remain neutral. Uninvolved. Which Relin had no problem adhering to until he met Mr. Mortenson. Suddenly, he couldn’t just state the facts. He found himself caught up in the story itself. “Sometimes, to be human, you have to choose sides.” That was a new one. Humans have the ability to choose sides. To think outside of themselves, to adopt a cause. To choose to stand for one thing, while abandoning another entirely. It has nothing to do with the desire to survive, and everything to do with the belief that some things are worth dying for. (Or, you know, living for.) True, a mother bear will give her life for her young. A wolf will die protecting the territory he calls his own. But this is more than that. Humans choose sides on matters that have nothing to do with themselves. They choose to fight illiteracy. They give themselves to the cause of fighting abortion, or raising awareness for AIDS in Africa, or the plight of our failing environment. They have passion, they have opinions, and they’ve taken sides. Maybe they believe in the advancement of artificial intelligent life. Or maybe they’ve chosen to dedicate their lives to translating an ancient Babylonian text to modern English. From what I can tell it doesn’t matter, at least to your humanness, what side you choose. You can choose a side I don’t agree with. Muslims may sacrifice their lives for a Jihad I don’t find necessary. Darwinian scientists may foreswear family, friends, and self for a chance to discover a missing link I don’t believe exists. It’s not the cause itself that makes you human. It’s the fact that you have one. Because sometimes, to be human, you have to choose sides.

I stopped doing that when I moved to Korea. I stopped taking sides. When you’re an all-or-nothing kind of girl, it comes naturally. But I turned it off. I just don’t…care anymore. And it’s killing me. So perhaps this humanness – this need to choose sides – really does define our species. Perhaps it exemplifies all the other reasons, ties them all together. Maybe it’s an example of our compassion paired with our ability to reason. Maybe it’s the flower on which we choose to waste our time, and the path we take to feeling like we belong to someone or to something. Maybe that’s what it means to be human.

Well, that, and your ability to blow a 500. (if you know what I mean...and I think you do)