Ten Weeks

This morning I talked to Rob. I arrived at work today in a particularly down mood. I'm feeling so sad these days, with the anniversary of my mom's death hanging in my weary bones, in the position of the sun in the sky, in my broken heart. But I was early for work and determined to get through the day, so I sauntered by the food court to see if there were any potentials for an early-hour interview. Then I saw Rob, a middle-aged, long-haired, kind-faced man, sitting alone in the sun with a cup of coffee. Perfect. I approached him, he reluctantly welcomed me, and what followed was a stepping out of my own pain, and into the story of this human. Regular and real like me. Rob had beautiful responses. I learned that he's a hunter and a fisher, that he loves his kids, and that he worries about the people in his life too much. "Add that, 'I worry too much!'", he said with a laugh. Rob asked me, "Why are you doing this?" As I got up to leave I said, "To get into other peoples' heads, and out of my own." He smiled.

Rob is one of the many folks I talk to who didn't want his photo taken. Respect. No problem. Although there's part of me that wants to share every connection I have, maybe it's good that I get to keep some of these stories all to my own heart.

If there's anything that has surprised me after doing this daily for the past 10 weeks, it's how ready people are to connect and soften and share super personal things. Even when there is an initial bristle (sometimes coming from me too), the smile and story opens with the first question I ask. I walk away from these conversations feeling more alive and connected 100% of the time.

I began this project for my own sanity. As I told Rob, it is meant to push me outside of myself, to continue to strengthen my compassion for others in spite of my own shit, and to help me remember that I am not alone in joy or in sorrow. We are travelling together.

Also, regular people are the most special.