16. Pause on the Path - Water Views

15. People Who Cross My Path

One time I said to a friend, “Don't you just look at the people around you and feel so connected to them? So full of love for them?”

 

She looked at me blankly. “No, I really don't feel that.” Her answer wasn't judgmental just resolutely no.

In that moment, I remembered that I'm not like most people. 

 

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A few years ago when I was sad and confused, I decided to flirt with the world. It was a decision that would change my life. This flirtation takes the form of making eye contact with every human being with whom I come in contact. I offer a smile. I relish their responses. I'm delighted when I get a smile in return, and am undaunted when it is not. No one is spared this smile/connect campaign: man, woman, teen, child, baby. No one is exempt. Not even intimidating beautiful, men.

This is scary territory for me. It's a vulnerable assignment. People don't expect to be seen like this. With intention by a stranger. I persevere. This simple act fills me with hope and great love.

I remember the young teenager who served me at the McDonald's drive-thru. He had a beautiful smile, so I told him. This is not what he expected from a white woman. A look of surprise flashed across his face, and then he smiled more. 

 

There's the dad at school who never smiled. He became a project. I looked him in the eye and smiled every time we brought our children to school at the same time. He was a tough nut to crack. I kept smiling, and he kept staring at me. And then one day, he looked in my direction and waved. From then on we've exchanged a smile and hello. Now it seems he seeks out the exchange. Success!

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I am my father's daughter. We don't know a stranger. We strike up conversation with everyone—the cashier at Home Depot, people in line at the grocery, you get the idea. Our warmth melts people, and they respond. These random conversations have led to interesting relationships:

1. Seated next to a pregnant woman carrying twins on an airplane, I mentioned that I was considering moving to France to be an au pair after college graduation. By the end of the flight, the woman asked if I would consider nannying for her family. Nannying for the twin boys was my first job out of college.
   
   
2. On another flight, I was pregnant and seated next to a woman who was recovering from a broken heart. I shared my experience of a college heart break. We exchanged information at the end of the flight. We've been acquaintances for ten years.
   
   
3. Standing below the Prague Astronomical Clock in the historic town center waiting for our city tour begin, a mother and daughter heard my travel companions and me speaking English. “May we wait with you for the tour? We don't hear many people speaking English,” Lisa explained in her beautiful Northern Irish brogue. They toured with us for the three days we spent in the city. We've exchanged Christmas greetings, wedding invitations, and baby announcements in the eleven years since that cool Czech morning.
   
   

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It comes as no surprise that this walking habit has peppered my path with a new cast of delightful characters. The smile/connect campaign continues as I walk through Clayton.

Patty was in her front yard one day as I walked by. I admired her new landscaping, started asking some questions, and ended up getting the name of a landscape architect for my own yard.

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Jeremy is an ambassador at the Panera Community Cafe, a social experiment the company launched to feed the community. Those who can afford the suggested price pay that or more, and those who cannot, pay what they can. Jeremy and I struck up a conversation one day as I ate my meal and wrote a handwritten letter. Jeremy remembered me the next time I came in for lunch and a friendship emerged. We've seen each other on the sidewalk as he makes a food delivery. We hug, wish each other well, and continue to our individual destinations. I am always greeted with a warm welcome when Jeremy is working.

Recently I went for lunch and didn't see him. I assumed I'd missed him on his day off. I went in again a day or two later, and he wasn't there again.  I asked one of his coworkers about him. He's not at Panera anymore. He got a better paying job closer to home. I am thrilled for him, and sad for me.

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I took my shoes in for repair and met Linda. She and her husband have owned the shop for thirty years. They have five children. She's a warm woman, proud of the work she does.

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One day I walked to the Barnes & Noble.  The store is a long walk from my office, so I was walking as quickly as I could to get there and back within the hour. The stretch of sidewalk I was walking was on a steep incline. I noted an attractive blond man leaning up against a brick retaining wall outside a restaurant. I got shy and almost didn't look at him, and then remembered that I interact with EVERYONE. Just as I looked up, locked eyes, and smiled, my toe hit a crack and I tripped. In front of this beautiful man. I smiled and kept walking.

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The final regular character I greet on my walks is a TopCare employee. He sweeps the grounds of the office building in which I work. He waters the plants. I wave and smile at him. At first, I could tell he didn't know what to make of my outreach. Over the course of the summer, he's figured out that this is what I do. Now he readily waves when he sees me.

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This smile/connect campaign has been a balm to me this summer as I work to understand how there can be so much hatred and distrust of people. Since I believe in the power of the smallest gestures, this campaign makes me feel like I am doing my part to sow seeds of peace and harmony wherever I go. Call me Pollyanna. I am certain these brief interactions have made ripples in other people's lives. I know they have improved mine.

This TED Talk echoes my experiences as I have interacted with the random people who crossed my path. I love the speaker's description of talking to strangers as “beautiful interruptions.” My life is richer for each of these often fleeting moments.

TED Talk: Why You Should Talk to Strangers

14. Maneuvering in a Tight Spot

Two city blocks past the fountains, the street makes a steep incline. There's a random waste bin on this stretch, so I often I pick up a lot a trash knowing it will be easy to dispose of. There's also a shaded area on the right of my path where people who smoke have their break. Earbuds in, I pass (and smile at) a lot of office workers on this part of the path.

On this particular day, I was making my way up the hill when I noticed this:

A driver was maneuvering his semi on the city street into a loading dock of a local hotel. Cars lined the street on both sides. Forward and backward, forward and backward, he inched his way into the narrow lane.

I stopped walking.

I took my earbuds out.

I watched. And watched. And watched some more. It was a spectacle. I held my breath.

I wasn't the only who stopped to watch.

The driver successfully backed into his spot. I sighed for him.

I noticed an older Asian man was one of fellow spectators. We struck up a conversation as I'd begun to walk away. He explained that he'd served in the military (Army, if I recall) and had driven trucks like that.

“How does he do it?” I asked still breathless by the way the driver had negotiated the tight space and multiple parked cars.

“Just do the opposite,” the gentleman answered. "Everyone thinks it's hard, but it's not if you just do the opposite of what you think you should do. If you need to go to the right, you turn the wheel to the left."

We exchanged pleasantries and then went our separate ways.

His answer rang in my ear. Just do the opposite. On my walking path, I'd found the next lesson on this journey I am on.

For months, the impulse had been to rush head long into the future. To KNOW what came next. To FORCE something to happen. Those had been frenzied times because I didn't actually want to do that, so without knowing fully what I was doing, I'd stopped. I'd felt my way through and decided to do the opposite. To not rush. To not have all the answers. To rest. To feel the discomfort. To lean into it. To walk instead of run.

As I walked away from the expert parking I had witnessed, I sensed I was walking into something really profound. And now, I didn't need to know what. I simply trusted that walking would help me figure it out.

13. Walking Reinforces What I Value

I generally walk with only my phone and head phones. Unless I have decided that I'm going to grab lunch on the walk, I don't carry a wallet.

After I've had my restorative moment at the fountains, I proceed down the street. There's a retail store, Lusso, I pass every day. The merchandise is so beautiful and the music selection puts me in a good mood. I've taken to doing a little browsing before continuing on my path once every few weeks. This store is a visual treat. Everything is priced out of my means, but I allow myself to enjoy the few moments, breathe in the peaceful vibe of the store, and enjoy the thought of making purchases when my budget allows.

I love dishtowels. They have become a favorite souvenir when I travel abroad (or domestically for that matter) because they are lightweight, easy to pack, are practical, and every time I place them on my counter or dry my dishes or hands, glimpses of my trip flash back.

On this particular walk, I found a dishtowel on clearance. It was melon-y orange (a favorite hue) and had the word Darlin on it. I immediately thought of a friend who uses this endearment with me. I took a photo of it, and texted it to him.

This friend shares my interest in minimalism. When I explained that it caught my eye, made me think of him, and was still too expensive on clearance, he replied “the photo is enough.” I refolded the towel and returned it to its place on the table. I knew he was right.

I endeavor to travel light on these daily walks, on trips, and through life in general. Walking fills me in ways that makes extra stuff superfluous. I was grateful that I didn't have my wallet, and to be reminded that I had plenty of dishtowels in my cabinet, and that I could enjoy the simple dishtowel without purchasing it.

"Put yourself in the way of beauty."

- Cheryl Strayed 

12. Labyrinth Epiphany

Adding labyrinth visits to the year-long birthday celebration feels full of serendipity and synchronicity now. The labyrinth as a spiritual practice has become a big part of my life in the past nearly two years. I write about each labyrinth walk because I want to chronicle my journey. I am so glad I have; each visit has gifted me with something fresh and different. I can measure my mental state and well-being by how different I feel from one labyrinth visit to another.

I have two distinct memories of this particular walk in July: it was hot. The sun was blazing when I reached the center. Most importantly, muscle memory informed me that the way I'd been walking my lunch time path felt just like walking the labyrinth.

What do I mean? My steps on the labyrinth are always deliberate and slower than my regular quick pace. I think about how I place each foot on the ground. On this day as I wound my way into the center, my body told me that I was doing the same thing each work day. I found this revelation astounding—and comforting. Just as the yoga practitioner endeavors to take the practice with them off the mat, I was thrilled to discover that I was taking the meditative elements of the labyrinth off the circuit and into my daily walks.

No wonder I feel so refreshed, calm, and transformed. The meditation is doing its work on me. If this is how I feel now, how much different will I feel in another six months? Another year? This kind of uncertainty is exciting.

11. Sun Kissed

I am the consummate bookworm. I spend very little time outside preferring to sit by a window gazing at the beautiful outdoors with a book or journal on my lap. This walking habit has moved me both out-of-doors and outside my comfort zone. It's been good for me.

I haven't applied sunscreen on these walks this summer. My skin needs at least a little un-sunscreened access to Vitamin D, and the route includes a fair bit of shade.

My daughter, Cadence, notices everything. She's commented in summers past as her skin bronzed with time spent out doors how my skin remained pale--a few shades darker than Elmer's glue. She's also noticed how this summer my nose, the tops of my shoulders and my feet have been sun kissed. She's pleased. Relieved even to know her mom can get a tan.

I admit I like how the sun has sprinkled cinnamon freckles across the bridge of my nose and brushed tiny tan lines over the tops of my sandaled feet. The walking and the Vitamin D teamed up to improve my mood. They conspired to help me feel more stable and settled in this new life. I feel a new bounce in my step.

10. Some days the Walk is Enough

If you have read my blog for any amount of time, you'll know that goal setting has been something I have taken seriously. Some would say obsessively.

The trash pick-up element of my daily walks began to feel a little obsessive. There's just so much trash to be picked up! I seem to be the only one who cares! The only one who bends down to pick it up!

I am learning that when I feel the presence of too many exclamation marks in my internal monologues it's time to breathe and examine what's up.

I am learning that some days the walk is enough. There are days that I do not need to save every sidewalk I encounter from litter. I can simply walk, notice the litter, and keep walking. Since I walk the same route every day, I have a chance to clear the path another day if that particular piece of litter is still waiting for me. In this way, the walking and de-littering become a game and the obsession eases.

This part of the walking routine is a form of meditation. On the walk, the litter symbolizes the thoughts that meditation instructs us to let pass by like clouds. It's hard to do. To let things pass. To not get obsessed.

It's hard. And then I practice. And the days pile up and it gets easier.