I was sitting on the T (Boston's subway) on my way into the city.
I will never get over the view of the skyline. On the way into the city, the T (the red line) passes over the Charles River, which is flanked by Boston's biggest buildings. In the day, I look forward to the feathery winter light against the river, its frozen surface. In the night, the lighted windows of the shining John Hancock Tower flickers against the iced-over water. And all the other buildings clustered together (whose names escape me) make a beautiful subway ride!
That was a digression.
As I sat I began to look around at all the people. I began to notice the small things about everyone--so unique and surprising each one of them! Every person had their own mannerisms, ways of standing and sitting, their own cadence. I began to think that I might even predict some of each person's life story just by how one of them dressed, carried herself, etc. I don't mean stereotypes--judging who people are. I mean mundane things that are not in themselves important or interesting, but fascinating when understood as indicators of actual people's lives. A few people stood talking softly to each other, but it was clear that they were enthusiastic about their trip. Dressed nicely, they were likely off to a party or a show. They would occasionally laugh quietly together, clearly sharing enjoyment in each other's presence. And as I could sense their shared love, it then struck me how beautiful and interesting they were--and everyone else on the subway!
I suddenly felt the desire to meet all the people with me riding in this subway car. I felt an inner urge just to start talking to the nearest person, and then to mingle as if we all were at a party. I then kept myself from doing this, knowing it would likely freak out anyone I talked to (or would it?).
But this led me to another realization. Our separateness is an illusion. We had all boarded this ride, and we were together for some momentary miles. Our body language was closed and distanced--we avoided talking to each other, we avoided sitting too closely, and we even avoided looking at each other sometimes. We conceived of ourselves as individuals and strangers. You might say: but if I don't know anyone on the train, then why would I want to talk? ...and admittedly some people are harder to speak with than others. But it seemed in that moment that the basic premise upon which we operated in this little subway car was totally socially constructed. This illusion of separateness is likely necessary for proper functioning in the world, but I could think of other social constructions that would be more fun and still functional. Like what if we approached each other always with openness and interest? What if this were the posture and the premise upon which society were constructed instead of the closed and distanced one we have now?
...
Similarly, I was walking back to my apartment after a semi-disastrous afternoon. I was therefore walking quickly down the street--I felt a need to get back to my apartment as soon as possible so I could relax, collect myself and get past this crappy day. As I walked I encountered a couple--they were blocking the whole of the sidewalk so I couldn't pass them. They were walking very slowly, very very slowly. At first I became frustrated, but then I took the situation as a sign from the universe to slow down--a message I've been getting from many different directions recently. I slowed down, but in my anxiety about having to wait even longer before getting inside my warm apartment I began to consider the couple before me. One of them was carrying what seemed a very heavy suitcase. I suddenly had the urge to help him! But I knew that if I just approached him and grabbed his suitcase he would likely try to hit me with it rather than let me carry it for him. So I just continued to walk slowly until we parted ways (as it were).
When I slowed myself down enough I was able to be present to the actual situation--these people who might need help with a suitcase. I stepped out of myself and out of my own "crappy day" into what semblance of their day that I could gather. It was a wonderful feeling to want to help someone else, and a little frustrating that it might not always be possible to follow through on that desire.
We are separate only by choice it seems.
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