It's the first week of the new year and everyone has their resolutions that will likely last a couple weeks. Maybe if you're one of the lucky ones it'll survive a couple months or if you're even luckier you'll truly make a new habit and it'll make you a better person like we hope our resolutions will. I have no problems with new years resolutions, I usually participate in the strange ritual. I've said in the past that I'll stop biting my nails (mostly accomplished), that I would journal more (did not accomplish but here's to attempting to blog), that I would floss every day (happened, but died off for sure), and this year I've said I'll go to the gym before work (instead of after) which will leave time to cook more after I get home from a long day (we'll see how that ends up going). But today I decided to add something else to my new years resolution list. It kind of naturally fell into my lap through a couple of experiences, but it's something that I think is worthwhile for everyone to put on their list for things to "improve your life" the way we typically want our mundane habit-breakers to, but I think this goal has the authority to carry a little more weight than our new diet fads.
My "new" new years resolution is to see people. Don't worry I haven't been walking around with my eyes closed, I am able to physically see people. But this resolution is to really see people, acknowledge them, engage with them, and learn from them. This means honoring that every person we interact with from the person in line with us in the grocery store to our own family is just as human as we are with everything that comes with that. The first thing that brought this about was a podcast I listened to recently. Over the holidays I had quite a few long road trips and I listened to hours of podcasts on end and stumbled across Invisibilia by NPR. The tagline of this podcast is: Unseeable forces control human behavior and shape our ideas, beliefs, and assumptions. They had a a bonus episode titled "Who Do You Let In." This episode focuses on the delicate balance between openness and caution when going through your life meeting people. The speaker in the podcast, Abby Wendle, shares an experience where she's alone at a John Prine concert and is approached by an older man who begins making conversation with her. Abby is in a long distance relationship so she's on guard even more than the average female, but regardless, I feel that many young females can agree with concept of feeling a little uneasy when approached by an older male. She mentioned trying to enjoy the concert but constantly feeling his eyes on her and multiple times he tries engaging her in conversation. She ends up deciding to give him her email (after a request for a number) after being reminded of the John Prine lyrics to the song "Hello in there." So if you're walking down the street sometime And spot some hollow ancient eyes, Please don't just pass 'em by and stare As if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello." Abby talks about how she often goes through life with her walls up, especially being in a long distance relationship- which I can understand. She's unsure of peoples intentions and therefore tends to allow her first impressions to be accompanied by mistrust. In the podcast, she ends up having a conversation over the phone with the man who approached her, after she's decided over email that she can trust him, and found out that while maybe yes, he was trying to hit on her a bit, he also just needed someone to connect with. He mentioned how she just looked so into the music and purely present in the moment and he wanted to engage with that. He mentions how people often just look at him and see him as an old man that doesn't deserve someones time of day. She encourages listeners to go through life not just passing people by, but engaging with them and really seeing those people for the people they are. My grandma has bad dementia, and sometimes she can be easy to dismiss. She doesn't respond in conversations, she's often just looking out into the distance kind of checked out and emotionless. But she's in there, even if it's deep, she's in there and she's worth being seen, just like everyone is. Sometimes you just need a reminder to stop and say hello like John Prine suggests. My girlfriend shared with me recently about a keynote speaker she had the privilege of listening to who helped give her a similar perspective. This was a woman from Swannanoa Correctional Facility who was serving a life sentence for a crime of murder. Regardless of her circumstances she was well spoken and delivered a great speech about how faith had played an important place in her life journey since being placed in this facility. She prefaced this with background about herself and how she ended up where she did, mentioning that she spent several years on the streets after dropping out of high school at a young age. She said that if one person on the street had given her the time of day, had told her that she mattered, that she wouldn't be where she is today having done the awful thing she did. My girlfriend shared this all with me and made her own type of resolution saying that hearing her speak made her wish she did more for people who are homeless. The other day I was making a stop by Earthfare with a friend for something small, what would be just a quick in and out. Sitting on the ground outside of the store was a woman with a small cardboard sign. I couldn't read the sign, it was just a little too dark, but I immediately thought, as I often do when I see people begging for things on street corners or at gas stations, is that I can't actually offer them anything that will truly help them. I've always been wary about giving cash because you are unsure of how it might be spent, but it's also unclear if they'll be frustrated if you give them something other than cash like food or resources. But then in the back of my head I heard those John Prine lyrics played in the podcast many times, please don't pass them by and stare as if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello." And I was also reminded of the words of my girlfriend sharing that woman's story, if one person had told her she mattered, what that would have done to change the course of her story. When we got into the EarthFare I decided I was going to get something for this woman. I browsed and was probably thinking too critically: what if they have an allergy, or what if bread is too bland and plain. And then the tiniest little fear crept in me, what if she is upset I'm only giving her food or she's inebriated or just angry I tried to talk to her rather than just give and go. I thought through how I could comfortably tell her that she mattered without seeming ingenue. I truly wanted her to know that I acknowledged her as a person, with her own story. I ended up with chex mix called "Pisgah Crunch." Something about chex mix seemed to be a good balance of all my stressed thoughts in one bag. I squandered the fears that I was feeling and thought this was my moment to not pass someone by. I walked out of the store and down to the corner where she had been sitting, and she was gone. I felt a wave of disappointment. This had been the moment come to fruition where I was finally going to actively try to "see" someone for more than just the cardboard sign in front of them and push away any stereotypical fear that seemed to arise when I considered approaching a stranger. But instead I walked back to my car with chex mix in hand, thinking, well I guess I can hold onto this until the next time I feel like it's needed. So now that bag of chex mix is sitting in my car, just waiting for the next person who maybe my first instinct is to pass on by, but it will be a reminder to stop and really see that person, even if it's for just a moment, acknowledging that we are all human and we all have our stories and that we all deserve love and respect and the chance to connect with others. And once the chex mix bag is gone, maybe I can find other ways to actively engage with people I come across in my life. After all, new years resolutions don't come easily.
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