FIELD OBSERVATION: THE STARTING POINT
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I always arrived first. Not on principle, nor out of fear of being late — I simply set off early. It was my own personal habit. Part of my morning ritual: leaving early, not rushing anywhere, finding the classroom empty, sitting down at my desk and spending a couple more minutes in silence before everyone else arrived.
I didn’t think anyone noticed.
It turned out they did. And not just that – they incorporated it into their view of the world. My habit became a point of reference. If I was there, it meant there was still time. If I wasn’t, it meant it was already too late. I’d turned into a walking clock without even wanting to.
This time, I left later. Not on purpose – I’d just been held up. I arrived just before the bell rang. I wasn’t late, no. I walked into the classroom with the rest of the class. And straight away, one of my classmates – I think it was a lad we hardly ever spoke to – called out across the classroom: ‘Slipped up?’
And laughter. Not malicious, more puzzled. Someone snorted, others exchanged glances, as if I’d broken an unspoken contract I’d never signed. As if punctuality were my duty to them, rather than a matter of my own comfort.
I sat down at my desk. The lesson began. But my mind wasn’t on the lesson.
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Metaphor: The Invisible Contract
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We don’t realise how we end up making agreements with those around us. Not on paper — through our behaviour. You simply do what feels natural to you. And the people around you interpret this as a promise. You’re always the first to arrive — so you must be reliable. You always keep quiet at planning meetings — so you must be happy with everything. You’re always willing to help — so they can count on you. And then one day, when you’re simply late, simply speak your mind, simply say ‘no’, they look at you in bewilderment. You haven’t just changed your behaviour — you’ve disrupted their view of the world.
That’s frightening. Not them — us. Because we suddenly realise: our freedom has long since become someone else’s norm. We no longer belong to ourselves. We belong to their expectations.
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Metaphor Two: The Lighthouse
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Imagine a lighthouse. It shines every night. Ships get used to it. They chart their courses, guiding themselves by its beam. The lighthouse never promised to shine forever. It has no contract with the port. It simply stands there and does what it was built to do. But if one day it goes out — the ships will crash. And no one will ask the lighthouse why it went out. Everyone will ask: ‘How could it?’
We are like those lighthouses. Our habits become points of reference for others. Our consistency is their safety. And when we’re just five minutes late, simply forget to reply to a message, or just decide to be quiet for a while — the world around us loses its bearings for a second. And reacts with: ‘Have you gone off the rails?’
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Final point: The right to deviate
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I didn’t slip up. I just happened to be there when the phone rang. But this incident made me wonder: how many other contracts have I signed without reading them? To how many people do I owe my ‘good behaviour’ simply because I demonstrated it once?
And the main question: do I have the right to break other people’s rules, which I myself have unwittingly created?
The answer, it seems, is simple: I do. Because my habit is my habit. Not their timetable. Not their point of reference. Not their beacon. If I want to, I’ll be the first to arrive. If I don’t want to, I’ll turn up when the bell rings. And the world won’t come crashing down.
It turns out that we become a point of reference for someone, without even realising it. Like a floor, like a wall, like a lighthouse beam — simply because we exist and behave in a certain way. A pigeon seeks something fixed to understand where to go. So does a person. And sometimes, you turn out to be that fixed point.
But a lingering feeling remains. Because now I know: even my silent steadfastness is, in itself, a resounding promise. And every ‘slipped up’ is the small print at the end of a contract that I didn’t read.
That’s how we live: first you set an example, and then that very example judges you.
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