I’m one of those people who is spiritual, not religious. But I love holidays because of how everything slows down, and people come out of their shells.
In Boston, on a weekday… you better not dare to take an extra two seconds to make your turn, because you’ll definitely get honked at by at least one person.
But on a day like Easter, things are slower. People come from out of town and are reunited with their families. They go out for huge, multi-generational walks with grandparents and babies in strollers, friendly dogs pulling excitedly on their leashes, everyone actually saying hello to one another… It’s as if, for a day, the masks are taken off and you truly see the people you meet.
These days, I am not always the most physically gracefully person. Although I have had some good days with my SI joint, I’m still far from out of the woods. Sometimes it’s really hard to walk and, in the hustle and bustle of everyone trying to get everything done, I often feel as though I am in the way.
And sometimes, people are not subtle about needing to get by me. I don’t always walk with a visible limp– I don’t think people can tell something is wrong. After all, I’m not elderly. I don’t think it occurs to a lot of people that anything could be wrong. It just looks like I’m oblivious, taking my sweet time and daydreaming while taking up space on the sidewalk.
But the thing is…I get it. I know what it’s like to be in that mode. I can feel myself switch into it when I’m in a hurry, and feeling a lot of external pressure to do things I don’t even really want to do (especially, in the past, when I’ve been on the way to a job I hated).
I’m not one for trying to find the silver lining in every bad experience. I don’t think everything happens for a reason.
I’m more about acceptance— about being okay with the fact that all this bad stuff happened to me, and there wasn’t necessarily a reason for it. Maybe I didn’t need learn a lesson. Maybe it just happened, and it was pointless.
However, something thing I’ve learned in the past few years of dealing with health issues is the value of going slowly.
I realized I don’t like being in angry, rushing person mode. I don’t like the stress that rushes through me when I don’t make a green light; I don’t like how I annoyed I get when the person ahead of me in line takes too long at the cash register.
I’d rather be the kind of person who notices that the painstakingly slow driver in front of me has just pulled out from a hospital parking lot, and that her teenage passenger is wearing a face mask (in other words, something’s seriously wrong).
The kind of person who realizes that the elderly man taking way too long ahead of her in line has probably just had brain surgery, and is out for his first post-surgery outing with his aide. The kind of person who manages to smile at him as though nothing’s wrong, despite the dramatic white bandage wrapped around his head and the purple blood pooled beneath his eyes.
The kind of person who doesn’t think about herself and her needs first– instead, she thinks about how she can help.
I’ve been both of these people, and I know which one I’d rather be.
Although I’m not as physically graceful as I’d like, it’s way more important to me to be a graceful person.
To be someone moves through life as smoothly as possible, without creating too much of a wake. To be someone who heals, and tries her best not to harm. (And, when she realizes she’s made a mistake, apologizes).
After all, none of my lasting memories are about that great time I got exactly what I wanted. My memories are about the things that move me: the times I went out of my way for someone else, and managed to sense intuitively what they needed. The times when someone else did that for me.
People can be amazing, and incredibly smart and kind. But you have to remain open to it; you have to let them.
I no longer measure myself in mile times. I measure myself in how well I was able to make eye contact with that elderly man, without letting my face show how shocked I was by his appearance.
Or in knowing the right thing to say, when a friend comes to me for help in a crisis.
That, to me, is what’s graceful.
Pink flower photo: alcidesota