Upon walked into the lobby waiting room for a therapist in Madison Park (an affluent neighborhood in Seattle), there was a disheveled, Snoop Dogg dead ringer, with tear drop tattoos and plastic bags next to him. Ashamedly, my immediate thought was, "Is this man homeless and just walked off the street for a warm, dry spot to sit?" He presence was so incongruous with the people I had seen in this office, or the upscale neighborhood, for that matter. I put my head down, walked past both and sat on an empty sofa.
I grabbed a magazine and quickly busied myself. I only have my own experience to draw on, but in therapist waiting areas people rarely seem to make eye contact or talk. Is there shame or embarrassment we are trying to avoid? Aren't we all seeking help? But the vibe is always if I don't make eye contact with you, you will do the same for me and we can hide behind the imaginary wall and pretend no one is struggling.
Minutes passed, I thought about the man in the room with me. I did not make eye contact with him, but I was curious about him. Why didn't I acknowledge his presence? I think I am a nice person. Why can't I look up? "Keep flipping through the shiny Seattle Magazine. I didn't want him to think I was judging him. "Head down until your therapist calls your name," I said to myself. "Maybe he is homeless and if I open the door with a 'hello', I won't be able to shut it??" Total avoidance of another person's presence in a small space...that didn't feel great but I convinced myself that was the better option.
A voice shook me out of my bubble. I look up to find an inquisitive gaze followed by, "Excuse me, this is my first time here. Do you just wait for a person to come and call you back?" His simple question broke through the wall of silence.
"Yes, whoever you are meeting will come and call your name," I reply. And then, not wanting to continue my closed off position, I ask the question I ask most to people I do not know, "Are you from Seattle?" "No, am from Missouri, I have only been in Seattle a few months."
"That is a big move. What brought you out to Seattle? Friends or family? How have you found Seattle to be?" I asked.
"I needed to get away from Missouri, I came alone and it has been tough because it seems like people here are not friendly. They don't like to be asked questions. Compared to Missouri, they are not really that friendly."
I said, "Seattle is filled with very nice people, but it does take quite a bit of time to get to know people, 'Seattle nice, Seattle ice.'"
He had not heard that term before, but said he definitely has experienced it. Just then my therapist arrived. I had to quickly depart. As I walked past him, I said goodbye and good luck....on with my day.
I walked down the long hallway to my therapist's office thinking, I was thankful he asked me a question and stepped through the wall of silence. I am not sure I would have done the same if I was in a place where I was a fish out of water as clearly as he was. The brief experience, although very minor impacted me but I couldn't put my finger on why. On with my day...
Following my hour appointment, when I returned to the lobby, there he was, loading up his plastic bags. I asked,"Did it all work out? Did your counselor come?"
"It turned out I had the wrong time. My appointment wasn't until 12:30. So I need to come back in an hour."
I mentioned there was a beautiful lakeside park just a few blocks away where he could sit while he waited. His counselor had shared that with him too. I told him it was a pleasure meeting him and I was thankful he asked me a question to take me out of my own space that morning. I asked his name, "Robert," he shared. I thanked him again as I pulled out my business card, handed it to him and said he could email me if he ever wanted to connect again or had any questions about Seattle. He thanked me and I walked out.
Just a few steps out the door, planning to cross the street to grab a coffee at Starbucks, I realized I could invite him to join me. He said people were not friendly here...I could extend a few minutes of "friendliness" to him. I returned with my invitation. He took me up on my offer.
As we were approaching Starbucks, I asked him why he choose Seattle. "A friend in St. Louis said it was a nice, quieter city. That sounded like what I needed. I needed to get away from everything in Missouri and start fresh."
"Were you born and raise in St. Louis?" I asked.
"Yes. I spent my whole life there."
"Wow, that takes a lot of courage to move to a place so far away, when you don't know anyone and start a new!" I said. He shrugged this idea off, but I reiterated my thought.
"Yes...I guess so." he said.
"I know so. That really is a big deal. It cannot be easy." I said.
"Yeah, it is tough, but if you want to change to happen, you have to take a leap and go for it. That is what I am trying to do. It is hard, but I am trying my best. I know I need change." He had no idea how his words were impacting me. They cut deep for me because I have been feeling down and isolated the past few weeks. I believe these words. I preach these words to my husband and sons. But when you hit periods of self-doubt, even knowing those words to be true, it is easier to burrow into the ground than leap. The messenger was powerful. I assumed his difficulties were much greater than mine. If he was pushing self-doubt aside, who was I to not start doing the same? Courage.
I asked Robert what kind of coffee he would like. "I don't know...black?"
"Black, that's it? Lighter or darker roast? Do you want room for cream and sugar?" If you are a Seattleite, there are so many questions you can ask about one cup of coffee...
After I finished his simple order, followed by my "Tall Americano, one Splenda and topped with steamed milk" nit-picky order, Robert asks, "What is this place? Do they make some special kind of coffee or what?"
"You know Starbucks, right? The headquarters is here, but they have these shops in St. Louis and all over the world." I say.
"I have heard of them, but I have never been in one..." That is hard for me to wrap my mind around.
After joining him to walk down to the waterfront park and sit with him, I learn why the unfathomable is real.
Robert was incarcerated for 15 years. Entering at the age of 21, in 1999. I have never met an ex-convict. I cannot believe my first experience was in a most unexpected neighborhood.
The next hour unfolded with learning and new insight for both of us. I will close for now and hope to share a little more about Robert's impact on my head and my heart.
Most significantly, Robert shook my soul just when I needed it. Life is about taking leaps every day.
HUMAN CONNECTIVITY is ESSENTIAL and can be found every day in unexpected places. We just have to lift our heads and have courage to say hello.
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