Welcome to Infinite Threads. I’m your host, Bob.
Somewhere along the way, we were taught to divide.
Not just to sort or categorize for understanding—but to define.To decide who belongs and who doesn’t. Who is safe. Who is not.Who is “like us”… and who is “other.”
And once that line is drawn…it becomes easier to step away from compassion.Easier to justify harm.Easier to become blind.
Today, I want to talk about that line.
And how real it feels, even when it’s not.
The truth is: our minds evolved to divide for survival.In a dangerous world, being able to quickly distinguish friend from threat helped keep our ancestors alive.That wiring still lives in us.
But here’s the problem—
When the world changes and grows more complex,those ancient reflexes start misfiring.They scan for threat even when there isn’t one.They oversimplify.They say, “That person is not like me,”when the truth might be, “That person just sees the world from a different angle.”
And still—we feel the tug.
Even kind, self-aware people do this.
We do it in traffic.
We do it online.
We do it when someone says something that offends us or scares us or simply doesn’t align with how we see the world.
The moment our brain says,“Oh, they’re one of those,”we stop looking.
We stop listening.
And we forget something essential:
That there is no such thing as “those people.”
There is only us.
Now, that may sound poetic—but it’s not meant to be.It’s meant to be practical.
Because when you forget the “us” in someone else,you lose access to your own depth.
Let me explain.
When we create an “other,”what we’re really doing is projecting—pushing the parts of ourselves we don’t want to deal with onto someone else.It’s a defense mechanism.A mirror turned backward.
Because to see the “other” clearlywould mean seeing the part of ourselves we’ve hidden, buried, or never questioned.
Think about this:
Have you ever judged someone for being controlling—only to later realize you were trying to control your own environment in subtle ways?
Have you ever rolled your eyes at someone’s stubbornness—only to notice the quiet ways you dig in when challenged?
That’s what projection does.
It lets us spot flaws in others that we haven’t yet made peace with in ourselves.
And so we label, reject, or diminish the “other,”because facing them fully would mean facing ourselves, too.
But here’s the pivot:
What if we leaned in instead of away?
What if we began to see the “other” as an invitation?
Not to agree.
Not to approve.
But to understand.
To say—
“There is something in that person’s story I don’t know yet.”
“There is a thread in their pain that might resemble something in mine.”
“There is a way they’ve learned to survive that makes sense in their world,even if it doesn’t in mine.”
That doesn’t make them right.It makes them real.
And seeing people as real is where love begins.
So, today, I invite you to notice.
Not to fix.
Not to argue.
Just… notice.
When someone irritates you,or offends you,or disagrees in a way that feels like nails on a chalkboard—
pause.
And instead of saying, “They’re one of those people,”try saying this:
“They’re responding to something.”
Let that be the beginning of understanding.
Because behind every sharp opinion is usually a deeper fear.
Behind every wall is usually a wound.
And beneath every mask is a human face, just trying to figure out what this life is all about.
The illusion of “other” is powerful.But so is presence.So is compassion.So is the steady refusal to dehumanize,even when it would feel easier to do so.
Because if we fall into the trap of division,we don’t just lose them—we lose ourselves.
We lose our own softness.Our own clarity.Our own thread of love.
And in a time when the world feels increasingly hardened and fast to judge—what we need most is not sharper arguments.
What we need is people who stay soft.
People who stay open.
People who remember that there is no “them.”
Only us.
Thank you for listening.
I know this one isn’t easy.But it matters.
Every time you choose to pause instead of react—you make a different kind of world possible.
One thread at a time.
I’m with you.
Infinite Threads is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
