“I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen.”
John Steinbeck, The Winter of Discontent
Yesterday, I dropped my phone. I dropped the napkins, the forks, and the spoons. I dropped almost everything I carried, except the three glasses of water precariously balanced in my hands. I saved those.
Two casual diners rescued me. The man picked up the phone and delivered it safely to my table; his female companion handed over the tableware. They were lightning fast, as if on cue.
A minor incident? True. On all fronts except one.
I was polite and thanked them, of course. But what I didn’t do was see them. Like Steinbeck, I looked, but didn’t see. You might shrug and ask, “What’s the big deal? What’s the difference?”
The difference turned out to be significant. Or at least it was for me. It served as a gentle reminder to open my eyes and my heart and truly see who is there.
The Thai restaurant where my friends and I met for lunch is self-serve, so I passed by this table a few more times, gathering fresh forks and spoons, clean napkins, and later ordering dessert. Again, I smiled easily at the couple as they raised their faces up to me. Again…I nodded and looked, but didn’t see.
You might still be saying, “Okay, no big deal. Move on!” And, you’re right.
I did move on. We finished our lunch, topped it off with Ginger Lemongrass Coconut Ice Cream and went our separate ways. I drove into a busy shopping center on a mission to find a classic black skirt.
Just as I put the car into “park,” I received a text message from a dear friend in Portland, OR, over two thousand miles away. The message read:
“Are you at Thai Fresh?”
“Uh, just left.…?” How did she know I had just left the restaurant? She has an infant and recently went back to work, so I knew she wasn’t in Texas.
“My friend, J—, just texted me. He saw you there.”
“LOL! Tell him ‘thank you’ for picking up my phone.”
I remember J— and he has even been to my home. We exchanged a few more text messages before signing off. Then I had a good hearty laugh at myself. While browsing the crowded racks for the perfect skirt (no luck), I thought about it a little more.
I had been in a hurry. I had been clumsy in body as well as in spirit. I had ignored a familiar kindness as J— set my phone on our table. I had missed something important…..I had missed him.
Today, I smile and am grateful for my clumsiness, for the ripple effect of this small gesture—the reminder that I truly do want to see people. Looking at them is not enough; it’s that true connection, the good eye contact, that soulful moment when you know you have seen who they are–that is what I want.
May you live with an open heart and truly see,
Lynda
Sources:
Photo by Ryan McGuire, www.gratisography.com
Thank you, Lynda. I really like your new site. Jacquie turned me on to it. We met years ago when I was working with Carl Vandervoort. Jacquie and I go back all the way to KATU.
I was just thinking this morning about seeing people. I spend a lot of time watching — what people wear, their hair, their style choices. But so often I don’t see them. How often do we look in people’s eyes as we pass? I will endeavor to do that today. Thank you for those thoughts.
I do have a blog these days if you’re so inclined. sandy633.com
Sandy Poole Keiter
I appreciate your support and will definitely check out your blog. Ever since this little blunder, I catch myself slowing down in conversation, especially with the cashier at the grocery store, the gasoline attendant, the young woman whose toddler is misbehaving in the restaurant. I am constantly reminded that in our separateness, we are all deeply connected. Those days at KATU were impressionable days for me as Jacquie has always been a fabulous mentor and sister-in-law. Her friends are mine! Thanks for your comment.
Lynda, I found your blog to be deeply resonant. I had a similar experience last year in which I didn’t truly “see” a colleague who sublet the counseling office across from mine and worked there part-time. Months later, she took a new position as clinical director of a nonprofit for which I do pro bono work, and we were thrust together face-to-face, and I got to know her and realize what a special person she is. I felt shamed that I had wasted the previous opportunity to “see” her. And now I am working hard to “see” and to get to know the two new colleagues who now rent that same office across the hall. Thank you!
Elizabeth O’Brien, LPC-S
I believe this is fairly common in our contemporary world. Our pace quickens and we frequently miss opportunities to truly see who is standing right in front of us. I’m so glad you were given another chance to know her, that you remain open and aware. Thank you for your support and kind words.