Cone of Silence
Nowadays with snapchat, instagram, Facebook and twitter it seems like there is always someone in our face. Some people thrive with this sort of constant contact and communication, and some people find it distinctly overwhelming. To escape this, one can go alone somewhere, without a phone or computer, and achieve quiet. This stillness, without high frequency noises buzzing in the periphery, allows for some calm, for time to hear ones own thoughts. However it is hard to have quiet time with other people. That's why people say its good to have alone time every now and then. But the other day I discovered how nice it is to have alone time, without being alone.
After being on my computer for most of the morning, I took my lunch break and walked up a steep street to a little patch of grass along the median, thinking I would just sit and be still for a half hour. When I got there another man seemed to have thought similarly, and was sitting with his knees bent up to his chest, arms back behind him and a cereal bowl to his left. For whatever reason we didn't share the customary head nod or quick "hello" that I often share with other people when I find others in the same situation as myself, and I took a seat a dozen yards away from him, in silence.
I remained acutely aware of his presence for the first little while, trying to sense if there existed any tension in the air - had I rudely interrupted his reverie? Was this private property? But after a few minutes, I saw no reason to give it any more thought, and lapsed into the stillness usually found in solitude. Except there was this other guy there. But I think he had similar intentions. So not saying hi, howdy, how ya doing, good afternoon or hello did me good, and I think him too.
I think the two quiets, instead of interrupting each other, built on each other, and enabled a greater stillness in time. So Jacque celebrates Mr. Introspective Grass Man today.
After being on my computer for most of the morning, I took my lunch break and walked up a steep street to a little patch of grass along the median, thinking I would just sit and be still for a half hour. When I got there another man seemed to have thought similarly, and was sitting with his knees bent up to his chest, arms back behind him and a cereal bowl to his left. For whatever reason we didn't share the customary head nod or quick "hello" that I often share with other people when I find others in the same situation as myself, and I took a seat a dozen yards away from him, in silence.
I remained acutely aware of his presence for the first little while, trying to sense if there existed any tension in the air - had I rudely interrupted his reverie? Was this private property? But after a few minutes, I saw no reason to give it any more thought, and lapsed into the stillness usually found in solitude. Except there was this other guy there. But I think he had similar intentions. So not saying hi, howdy, how ya doing, good afternoon or hello did me good, and I think him too.
I think the two quiets, instead of interrupting each other, built on each other, and enabled a greater stillness in time. So Jacque celebrates Mr. Introspective Grass Man today.
I fully get the "silent syndrome" as someone who oft opts to spend time on my own and keep my thoughts to myself...
ReplyDeleteHowever, I crossed my self-imposed line a couple of days ago when I offered a very young looking woman a ride to BART. Standing just across the street from my house, she needed some change to get a BART ticket to SF. I offered her a ride to the station. We make some small talk and distractedely listen to NPR. Within a block, her phone rings. Discretely and concisely she lets her interlocutor know that she is heading to SF. "I love you", she says - twice. Hangs up. She volunteered that that was her husband. HER HUSBAND? She could not have been much older than 16! She must have caught the surprise on my body language. "I am 25. Most people think I am 15!" Within a 4-block-ride I learned that she is from California and her husband from Kentucky (I believe...) She has come to Berkeley for a job interview in a coffee shop and will try a second one the next day at a "vintage" retail store. Her husband just got a job the day before. They have been living at friends' house in SF, sleeping on their couch. "Often people ask me where my parents are!" She let me know how she chose her clothes that day, just so she could look more presentable for the interview. She thinks she came through confidently. "I took my jacket off... the spikes..." Her black hat sat playfully on her head; her face framed by naive glasses. Colorful psychedelic tights sprung from beneath her black shorts. She had just found a funky pair of brown boots on the street that day. A bit too big for her size 6 foot, but a welcome gift on this important day.
Less than 5 minutes in the car, and this young woman trustingly opened a whole world in front of me. The only thing I had to do was open the door of my car.
At the end of the ride she asks me my name. Vera. And yours? Trinity. "I hope I don't offend you" she says, but can I pray for you?" Pray for me? "Yes, just good things." Yes, sure. But make sure to pray for peace too, I heard myself hopefully saying from the corner of the window, as she heads to the station. G-d knows we can use some of it.
So this is a toast to you, Trinity! For trusting a complete stranger and teaching me that we ought leave the cone of silence at times...