How To Be A Martian Without Leaving Earth

Marvin the Martian — my generation’s childhood image of the Aliens Out There.

My father, Jerome Dorkin, was a physician back in the 1950s and 1960s when doctor visits were still two dollars, evening office hours were normal, and house calls were commonplace. His small one-man office was attached to the house via a door in our kitchen.

I loved wandering in when Dad wasn’t busy because the big examining table had a huge roll of paper on it. Technically, it was for the patients: each one got a fresh covering for the table before they’d climb on.

But for me, that big roll of paper was magic waiting to happen.

I created my own coloring book out of a six-foot length of paper.

On rare occasions, my father would tear off a six-foot length and tape it to my wall. I would then proceed to go to town, drawing figures and scribbling stories to my heart’s content.

No coloring books for me — too small! And why color in the lines anyway? I had bigger visions than that.

Those days with unlimited paper and boundless imagination are some of my best childhood memories.

That’s why I love thinking like a Martian.

No, that doesn’t mean running around with a scrubbing brush on my Roman-style helmet and big sneakers. I leave that version to Looney Tunes. Rather, it involves observing the world as if I’m an explorer from another planet.

It’s an unlimited state of mind that encourages me to leave my judgments at the door of any experience.

Tears may not have an emotional basis.

Here’s an example: Let’s say I’m sitting across from someone who has tears running down their face. There’s no verifiable stimulus for this action. There are two questions that might address this:

“Why are you crying?” assumes there’s an emotional basis to what’s happening, and it’s most likely a negative one. That’s a natural human response.

But our little Martian? He happily leaps out of his saucer, toddles over to the person and asks “Why is there water running from your eyes?”

In the Martian point of view, all possible explanations are up for consideration. And because he doesn’t assume anything more than what he’s observing, he may get a truer answer:

Kids make terrific Martians — because they are ALWAYS asking the next question.

The Martian might learn about human physiology — where the person is ill, has an allergy, or has something wrong with a contact lens that causes irritation.

He keys in on psychology, finding that the person might be overwhelmingly emotional — either happy or sad — and the emotion “leaks out” in the form of tears.

But here’s the most important thing: our little Outer Space being has left room for every potential answer; his openness entertains as many positive possibilities as negative. And he’s guaranteed to learn something either way.

Questions open you up to infinite possibilities.

So: the next time you’re in a situation where you think you already know the answer — be a happy Martian detective. Ask the next question. Be ready to consider all possibilities.

And watch your life expand!