We meet for the first time and she introduces herself. She is from Turkey, middle-aged. She is here in America for six months to "change her life". She says something about wanting to become a "waiter" and believes learning English will help her achieve this goal when she returns to the United States in the future.
Cognitive interference #1: I expect to hear a story of an abusive husband or a desire to break free of religious chains that keep her house-bound. I assume she is poor, since she believes that a job as a waitress is a better life...
She is a journalist. She has a good job, she says.
Cognitive interference #2: Ah, a journalist. My mind retrieves the image of Christiana Amanpour from its memory bank. I picture this Turkish journalist crouched low, protective arm above her head as bombs explode behind her in the distance... reporting middle-eastern affairs has taken its toll... She is tired and looking for rest, peace...
She covers entertainment topics - television, movies, actresses. Her phone screen lights up with a picture of a smiling young teenage girl, with short, shiny blonde hair backlit by the sun. She tells me that her life is good...just too good. She is restless and seeking a challenge. She wants to serve others; have an active, physical job. She knows that she will not make much money becoming a waitress. But that is the point. She says that she wants to simplify.
My mind stops its ridiculous attempt to shove this woman into its poorly-formed mental mold of "middle eastern woman". I am listening now. Really listening as her words express my thoughts.
Her journey to America is spiritual. She wants to experience the discomfort induced by change. When she is here -- in an unfamiliar place, straining to understand and connect with others -- she is "like a baby"... naiveté keeps fear at bay. Everything is new and difficult, but exciting. It is invigorating.
Yes, I know the feeling. I tell her that is why I love to travel. In shorter words than this, I explain that the immediate challenges of navigating, communicating, and problem-solving dissolve the meaningless chatter that otherwise fills my brain. Exploration and new sensory experiences ground me in the present moment. Whether the experience is good or bad does not matter; it's that it is real.
She is nodding her head. We understand each other. She is traveling to California next week for a meditation seminar. I help her with flight schedules and ground transportation. I do not believe she needs a lesson in "breathing techniques"; she is already more aware than she realizes.
As I walk home after our one hour tutoring session, I am ashamed of the false caricatures my mind initially attempted to draw. I am grateful to her for shattering another of my malformed mental casts, allowing me to refine my cultural understanding and once again remember that we are more alike, than different.