“Who are all of these people?”  “Where do they come from, and where are they going?”  “What are their stories?”

These are the questions that hit me whenever I’m waiting for a flight to board at the airport, and I see countless people heading in different directions and boarding flights to different parts of the world.

It always strikes me to think that each person has a unique life story that they could share with me if we just took the time to sit together and talk over a cup of coffee.  Each person would probably share stories that would be equal parts good times and bad – stories about laughter and love that are tempered by those of pain and tears – because we all experience these things.  I’ve experienced my fair share of each, and I’m sure you have too.

 Sadly enough, though, more often than not, I fail to see those around me as people who have a story just like I do.  Instead, my focus is on my own life and my own desires.

 At that same airport, when I’m rushing to get through security, and the people in front of me are taking forever, I’m not thinking about what they may be going through in life.  I’m not thinking about their stories.  In fact, I hate to say it, but I couldn’t care less about those things.  All I care about in that moment is what I want: for them to just get out of my way.

What about the people on the other side of the screen when you’re sitting at the computer pursuing what you want at that moment?  Have you ever thought about their stories?

 Where do they come from?  Where are they going?  What’s going on in their lives?

 Porn paints a pretty picture and portrays an idealized image of a very twisted reality.  When the cameras finally turn off, what is left behind?  What goes through the minds and hearts of the people who are there because they need money to pay the same bills we all have to pay?

 Numerous interviews have been done with performers who said they have had to imagine themselves outside of their bodies during a shoot just to get through it.  One performer, in a fairly well known interview, said, “I’m not happy…I don’t like myself at all.”  She recounted shoots after which she could not stop crying because of what she had just been through.

 “I really felt like a piece of meat.”

 “I feel so — so gross.”

 While porn often portrays an atmosphere of sensuality and desire, there is, in reality, a painful truth that leaves people feeling dirty, empty, and used.

 Do we think of these people as having stories just like ours?  Does it matter to us?  Or do we respond with “just get out of my way,” as we continue to go after what we want at the moment?