Dumbledore's Woolen Socks
Every now and then I think of Dumbledore’s woolen socks.
When Harry asked Dumbledore what he saw in the Mirror of Erised, Dumbledore said he saw himself holding a thick pair of woolen socks.
One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
Of course, Dumbledore wasn’t really short of socks. For a great wizard, conjuring socks is hardly a problem. Woolen socks stood for family affection.
Just as Dumbledore wanted socks but kept receiving books, I too often have small, genuine needs that go unnoticed or suppressed.
My WeChat profile picture hasn’t changed in six years. I’m not someone who likes being photographed. In the past I was always too reserved, often invisible in group activities. I would look through all the photos of an event and not find a single one with me in it. So when someone finally managed to take a good picture of me, I kept using it until it wore out. And the person who took that photo happened to be a girl who liked me. Which made me wonder: is it only someone who loves you who can take a good photo of someone who never looks good on camera? After all, who else would bother to focus on you, to find the right angle, and even touch up the photo afterward?
But this led me to think further: if I clearly have needs, why am I always too ashamed to voice them?
Maybe because I’ve lived through too many moments where saying it made no difference. Over time I developed this passive emotional mode:
If you don’t say it, and others can still guess and meet the need: huge bonus. Affection skyrockets.
If you express it lightly, and the other person goes to great lengths to meet the subtle need: another bonus.
If you say it and the other is unmoved, ignores it, dismisses it even after you emphasize it repeatedly: deduction.
Worst of all, like my father: you tell him, and he mocks you for it.
But this way of thinking is too twisted.
When we were younger, maybe it wasn’t so hard for others to read us. As we grow in mind and experience, though, to still expect unspoken understanding is basically waiting for a miracle.
The more mature way is to express your needs bravely and honestly. This not only takes care of your own feelings; it also gives others the chance to understand you.
Back then, I was ashamed to speak up because I misunderstood the nature of human relationships. I thought it was a zero-sum game: if others had to go out of their way to meet my needs, I was somehow taking advantage of them.
But that’s not true.
Existential isolation is a condition every human must face. And the main force that counteracts it is relationship.
Relationships can break through the walls of isolation, building bridges between different selves.
In fulfilling our own needs, we also give others the chance to practice love.
Through encountering another person, we are changed. Our inner world grows richer. Even a brief encounter can become an internal reference point.
Just as the Sword of Gryffindor absorbs whatever makes it stronger.
If you doubt this, look at how many of your habits (picked up unconsciously) might trace back to someone’s example, or a stray word, from your past.
This is also why, when friends ask me whether they should have children, I usually encourage them to.
It is not that children need parents. It is the opposite: parents need children.
Children give parents an opportunity, and a person, on whom to practice a love that asks for nothing.
And it is precisely this process that helps parents fight and dissolve existential isolation.
So, my friend, do you also want a pair of woolen socks?
References
- Irvin Yalom, Existential Psychotherapy