A fateful encounter between two men gives us reason to look at the world from different perspectives and shows us that the most mundane moments in life can unfold to the most meaningful. A practical implication of the Foucauldian discourse analysis and a reminder that we should always listen to our feelings.
A fateful encounter between two men gives us reason to look at the world from different perspectives and shows us that the most mundane moments in life can unfold to the most meaningful. A practical implication of the Foucauldian discourse analysis and a reminder that we should always listen to our feelings.
Photo by Vadim Martschenko
Photo by Vadim Martschenko
It was a cold day at the end of January. Since I had an exam the next day in philosophy of science, I went straight from the library to work. We host cultural events in Amsterdam and on today’s agenda was a discussion about the LGBTQ+ community under the Nazi regime. It was hosted by a group of young queer people. While I greeted visitors and showed them where they needed to go, I was struck by a young man in his twenties, who wore one of those horn-rimmed glasses I always wanted to have. Thanks to my brilliant eyesight this dream is sadly postponed to later years. He was carrying an artsy tote bag and his face had an open expression. He approached me wanting to ask if he could still register for the event, since he was just walking past the building and spontaneously decided to join. “Sure, I can do that.” I said and asked for his ID for the registration. He came really close to me, which should have made me feel uncomfortable. And yet, somehow it didn’t. While I was typing his personal information into the system we began to talk. He was studying Philosophy and was only in Amsterdam for a few days because of his particular interest in rivers. “Rivers?” I asked. “In the broadest sense. Not only the canals that go through Amsterdam but also flows of thoughts or consciousness.” he answered. I had never heard someone say something like that before. Although it seemed a bit weird, I was fascinated. “I also like bikes. So Amsterdam is the perfect place to be.” he added. As a lifelong ‘bikefluencer’ I could not have been more intrigued by a statement like that. “Maybe we can continue our conversation after the event?” he asked, which I firmly agreed to. While we were talking I felt that my heart was racing and that I began to tremble a bit. A feeling of nervousness and anticipation. After he left the room, I noticed that he forgot his ID, so I put it in my pocket.
The event was indeed interesting, much more exciting than philosophy of science. Afterwards I was working at the bar, serving the mostly middle-aged guests red wine and non-alcoholic beer. Every now and then I peeked at the door to see whether the philosopher entered the room. But he didn’t, and I began to feel guilty that I didn’t give him his ID earlier. After an hour when my hopes were already down he did show up. Raindrops decorated his horn-rimmed glasses. Accompanied by an undertone of panic he asked “Do you have my ID?”. I dug into my pocket and handed him back his ID, with a small letter attached. “In case you want to see me before you leave again. Let me know.” He smirked and said: “You are clever.” Deciding that the meeting would be right then, we continued our conversation and I soon realized that my philosophy of science course was not entirely irrelevant after all. He was seemingly impressed by my knowledge of philosophy and we could have a genuine discussion about Popper, Feyerabend and Wittgenstein. “My reality is defined by language. All that exists is encompassed by the words we use.” he said. He seemed to be a textbook example of a humanities scholar. “I like your view.” I said, “I define the world more through emotions. I am guided by my intuition, my gut feeling. Feelings influence in the end what I am doing, not the ratio.” Although this statement made me sound like a textbook example of a psychology student he did not seem to mind. He laughed and said: “You sound like you would enjoy Sturm und Drang.”
“When we speak and especially when we have a discussion with someone, we create the current reality.”
Every now and then we were interrupted by someone who wanted a red wine refill. At some point another guy approached the philosopher, while I was serving a customer. With that our conversation ended. I observed the two for the next hour. I was confident that this conversation could not be as rich and impactful as the one I had just shared with him. But my confidence decreased after they sat down, and the philosopher was invited to join the group which organized the event for dinner. How disappointing, I thought. This interesting connection turned out to be just a temporary encounter like many others at work. While I was cleaning up the bar and more and more people left, the philosopher came back to me and asked: “Do you want to join us for dinner? I think it would be a pity if we would let this go.” I felt validated. So, I did not just imagine this. Now I was the one who smirked and said: “I would join for dinner only because of you,” which made his cheeks turn red. Together with the others we walked to a restaurant nearby.
Not even five minutes after sitting down did we find ourselves deep in conversation and everything around us became irrelevant, including the other people at our table. We came to talk about spirituality. “Spirituality is a broad term. It is something that you could hold onto and that makes you understand the world.” he said. “In my opinion that is the discourse. Language carries all that is meaningful. All our history and social norms are expressed in words. When we speak and especially when we have a discussion with someone, we create the current reality. In that specific context all that is relevant in the world is being said. What is left from the conversation then influences us sustainably. The present is based on the past while simultaneously forming the future.” “Isn’t that very deterministic?” I questioned, to which he replied: “Of course. But that’s the point. Have you ever heard about Foucault?” I shook my head, so he proceeded: “According to Foucault, language carries power dynamics. The language we use carries our social identity and when we speak this gets transferred to the other person and their reality. Like I am demonstrating power over you by explaining this theory. I have more knowledge about it and, in some way, dictate my way of thinking on to you. The conversation we are having constitutes all you know about this topic. And when it is over, the important things remain. We carry them on. They become a piece of the puzzle of the world you are creating yourself.” Wow. This just opened a whole new perspective to me. I replied: “You came exactly at the right time.” This sentence carried much more meaning than what could be expressed. He knew it and I knew it. “Two months ago, I would have not understood a single word you said. This conversation showed me that there is a reason to study philosophy of science.” And that you can randomly bump into people that can change your world view.
We finished dinner and everyone decided to leave. Me and the philosopher walked in the same direction. All of a sudden he stopped and said: “I forgot my scarf at the event.” I could calm him down by saying: “No worries. We can walk back and get it. I have a key”. As we went back to my work, I told him: “You have a tendency to forget things.” to which he answered: “Yes, that happened in the past. Sometimes I ask myself if I forget things on purpose, so I have a reason to come back.”
“language can be violent at times”
“Do you go to lectures often?” he asked me as we were standing in the kitchen of my workplace. “Not really. Most of the time I don’t feel like I belong in those sorts of events. The people are much older and talk about such specific topics. What do I know about this specific poet from the early 20th century? I would like to be part of this group but I feel like I don’t belong.” “Do you feel the urge to leave then?” After I said no, he elaborated. “I sometimes do. For instance, today. When attending the LGBTQ+ event. I felt like I did not belong here. In the sense that I felt like the “+” was not really represented in the event. You know, language can be violent at times. The words that have been used tried to categorize people into boxes. Me, who did not fit into any of these boxes, felt attacked. There are so many expectations in the room of what you have to be and what not that flood over me. I wanted to escape. So, I did. I also want to emphasize that it was not because of you that I left. It was because of you that I came back.” That intrigued me.
I appreciated that he would talk so openly about his feelings. Not everyone is able to do so. “But why do you want to leave?” I asked. “Why does this feeling of exclusion lead you to flee from the situation? From my perspective this rather sounds like you are scared. When something becomes too scary, we cannot deal with the situation anymore and either want to fight it or flee from it. We are especially scared of situations we are not familiar with. Take for instance the first time I was close to kissing a guy. It was just the two of us and an unavoidable silence. I knew that this was the moment where I should have kissed him. But I could not. My fear prevented me from pursuing what I actually wanted to do. Afterwards I was annoyed at myself and knew something needed to change.” “Maybe you weren’t ready yet?” the philosopher asked. “Yeah, maybe I wasn’t.” I replied “But I learned something from that situation. It is always scary to start something new, like it is always scary to end something because it entails change. Being confronted with something unfamiliar which we do not know how to deal with makes us feel uncomfortable. That induces fear. Although you should listen to your emotions, never let them rule over you. Fear is a strong sentiment, but it should never hold you back from what you want. It is important to face our fears. Don’t run away. Otherwise, we will not change and thus not grow. Go where the fear is.” The philosopher walked in my direction and leaned on to the kitchen counter right next to me. Our faces were close. There it was again. The unavoidable silence.
He decided to walk me back to my place. I unlocked my bike and asked: “Does the bike expert like my new bike?” “I do like it. It looks like it’s from the 80s. Those must have been such good times.” To which I said: “Maybe they had nice bikes and times, but I really don’t like the music from back then.” I was not sure if he was offended when he said: “What kind of music do you like then?” “Uhh, that’s a difficult question. I think I don’t have a taste in music.” Which was true. There is no clear pattern in all of the songs I am listening to. What the philosopher then said surprised me: “Oh no. I think I’m starting to really like you.” Now I was the one blushing.
We arrived at my apartment building. He hugged me goodbye. It was one of those long hugs. “I wanted to let you know that I felt really comfortable with you. Especially at the end when we talked about how I felt today.” the philosopher said. That meant a lot to me.
Meeting him was one of the nicest coincidental experiences I ever had. We parted ways and as I was entering my apartment he turned around and shouted to me: “You’re cute.”
It was a cold day at the end of January. Since I had an exam the next day in philosophy of science, I went straight from the library to work. We host cultural events in Amsterdam and on today’s agenda was a discussion about the LGBTQ+ community under the Nazi regime. It was hosted by a group of young queer people. While I greeted visitors and showed them where they needed to go, I was struck by a young man in his twenties, who wore one of those horn-rimmed glasses I always wanted to have. Thanks to my brilliant eyesight this dream is sadly postponed to later years. He was carrying an artsy tote bag and his face had an open expression. He approached me wanting to ask if he could still register for the event, since he was just walking past the building and spontaneously decided to join. “Sure, I can do that.” I said and asked for his ID for the registration. He came really close to me, which should have made me feel uncomfortable. And yet, somehow it didn’t. While I was typing his personal information into the system we began to talk. He was studying Philosophy and was only in Amsterdam for a few days because of his particular interest in rivers. “Rivers?” I asked. “In the broadest sense. Not only the canals that go through Amsterdam but also flows of thoughts or consciousness.” he answered. I had never heard someone say something like that before. Although it seemed a bit weird, I was fascinated. “I also like bikes. So Amsterdam is the perfect place to be.” he added. As a lifelong ‘bikefluencer’ I could not have been more intrigued by a statement like that. “Maybe we can continue our conversation after the event?” he asked, which I firmly agreed to. While we were talking I felt that my heart was racing and that I began to tremble a bit. A feeling of nervousness and anticipation. After he left the room, I noticed that he forgot his ID, so I put it in my pocket.
The event was indeed interesting, much more exciting than philosophy of science. Afterwards I was working at the bar, serving the mostly middle-aged guests red wine and non-alcoholic beer. Every now and then I peeked at the door to see whether the philosopher entered the room. But he didn’t, and I began to feel guilty that I didn’t give him his ID earlier. After an hour when my hopes were already down he did show up. Raindrops decorated his horn-rimmed glasses. Accompanied by an undertone of panic he asked “Do you have my ID?”. I dug into my pocket and handed him back his ID, with a small letter attached. “In case you want to see me before you leave again. Let me know.” He smirked and said: “You are clever.” Deciding that the meeting would be right then, we continued our conversation and I soon realized that my philosophy of science course was not entirely irrelevant after all. He was seemingly impressed by my knowledge of philosophy and we could have a genuine discussion about Popper, Feyerabend and Wittgenstein. “My reality is defined by language. All that exists is encompassed by the words we use.” he said. He seemed to be a textbook example of a humanities scholar. “I like your view.” I said, “I define the world more through emotions. I am guided by my intuition, my gut feeling. Feelings influence in the end what I am doing, not the ratio.” Although this statement made me sound like a textbook example of a psychology student he did not seem to mind. He laughed and said: “You sound like you would enjoy Sturm und Drang.”
“When we speak and especially when we have a discussion with someone, we create the current reality.”
Every now and then we were interrupted by someone who wanted a red wine refill. At some point another guy approached the philosopher, while I was serving a customer. With that our conversation ended. I observed the two for the next hour. I was confident that this conversation could not be as rich and impactful as the one I had just shared with him. But my confidence decreased after they sat down, and the philosopher was invited to join the group which organized the event for dinner. How disappointing, I thought. This interesting connection turned out to be just a temporary encounter like many others at work. While I was cleaning up the bar and more and more people left, the philosopher came back to me and asked: “Do you want to join us for dinner? I think it would be a pity if we would let this go.” I felt validated. So, I did not just imagine this. Now I was the one who smirked and said: “I would join for dinner only because of you,” which made his cheeks turn red. Together with the others we walked to a restaurant nearby.
Not even five minutes after sitting down did we find ourselves deep in conversation and everything around us became irrelevant, including the other people at our table. We came to talk about spirituality. “Spirituality is a broad term. It is something that you could hold onto and that makes you understand the world.” he said. “In my opinion that is the discourse. Language carries all that is meaningful. All our history and social norms are expressed in words. When we speak and especially when we have a discussion with someone, we create the current reality. In that specific context all that is relevant in the world is being said. What is left from the conversation then influences us sustainably. The present is based on the past while simultaneously forming the future.” “Isn’t that very deterministic?” I questioned, to which he replied: “Of course. But that’s the point. Have you ever heard about Foucault?” I shook my head, so he proceeded: “According to Foucault, language carries power dynamics. The language we use carries our social identity and when we speak this gets transferred to the other person and their reality. Like I am demonstrating power over you by explaining this theory. I have more knowledge about it and, in some way, dictate my way of thinking on to you. The conversation we are having constitutes all you know about this topic. And when it is over, the important things remain. We carry them on. They become a piece of the puzzle of the world you are creating yourself.” Wow. This just opened a whole new perspective to me. I replied: “You came exactly at the right time.” This sentence carried much more meaning than what could be expressed. He knew it and I knew it. “Two months ago, I would have not understood a single word you said. This conversation showed me that there is a reason to study philosophy of science.” And that you can randomly bump into people that can change your world view.
We finished dinner and everyone decided to leave. Me and the philosopher walked in the same direction. All of a sudden he stopped and said: “I forgot my scarf at the event.” I could calm him down by saying: “No worries. We can walk back and get it. I have a key”. As we went back to my work, I told him: “You have a tendency to forget things.” to which he answered: “Yes, that happened in the past. Sometimes I ask myself if I forget things on purpose, so I have a reason to come back.”
“language can be violent at times”
“Do you go to lectures often?” he asked me as we were standing in the kitchen of my workplace. “Not really. Most of the time I don’t feel like I belong in those sorts of events. The people are much older and talk about such specific topics. What do I know about this specific poet from the early 20th century? I would like to be part of this group but I feel like I don’t belong.” “Do you feel the urge to leave then?” After I said no, he elaborated. “I sometimes do. For instance, today. When attending the LGBTQ+ event. I felt like I did not belong here. In the sense that I felt like the “+” was not really represented in the event. You know, language can be violent at times. The words that have been used tried to categorize people into boxes. Me, who did not fit into any of these boxes, felt attacked. There are so many expectations in the room of what you have to be and what not that flood over me. I wanted to escape. So, I did. I also want to emphasize that it was not because of you that I left. It was because of you that I came back.” That intrigued me.
I appreciated that he would talk so openly about his feelings. Not everyone is able to do so. “But why do you want to leave?” I asked. “Why does this feeling of exclusion lead you to flee from the situation? From my perspective this rather sounds like you are scared. When something becomes too scary, we cannot deal with the situation anymore and either want to fight it or flee from it. We are especially scared of situations we are not familiar with. Take for instance the first time I was close to kissing a guy. It was just the two of us and an unavoidable silence. I knew that this was the moment where I should have kissed him. But I could not. My fear prevented me from pursuing what I actually wanted to do. Afterwards I was annoyed at myself and knew something needed to change.” “Maybe you weren’t ready yet?” the philosopher asked. “Yeah, maybe I wasn’t.” I replied “But I learned something from that situation. It is always scary to start something new, like it is always scary to end something because it entails change. Being confronted with something unfamiliar which we do not know how to deal with makes us feel uncomfortable. That induces fear. Although you should listen to your emotions, never let them rule over you. Fear is a strong sentiment, but it should never hold you back from what you want. It is important to face our fears. Don’t run away. Otherwise, we will not change and thus not grow. Go where the fear is.” The philosopher walked in my direction and leaned on to the kitchen counter right next to me. Our faces were close. There it was again. The unavoidable silence.
He decided to walk me back to my place. I unlocked my bike and asked: “Does the bike expert like my new bike?” “I do like it. It looks like it’s from the 80s. Those must have been such good times.” To which I said: “Maybe they had nice bikes and times, but I really don’t like the music from back then.” I was not sure if he was offended when he said: “What kind of music do you like then?” “Uhh, that’s a difficult question. I think I don’t have a taste in music.” Which was true. There is no clear pattern in all of the songs I am listening to. What the philosopher then said surprised me: “Oh no. I think I’m starting to really like you.” Now I was the one blushing.
We arrived at my apartment building. He hugged me goodbye. It was one of those long hugs. “I wanted to let you know that I felt really comfortable with you. Especially at the end when we talked about how I felt today.” the philosopher said. That meant a lot to me.
Meeting him was one of the nicest coincidental experiences I ever had. We parted ways and as I was entering my apartment he turned around and shouted to me: “You’re cute.”
