How a Meeting With a Stranger Gave Me a Gift I Will Never Forget

Why I Am Grateful for the Magic of Those In-Between Moments

Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash

There is an art to burning dead time

Of the many conversations I have had, I am of the opinion that sometimes the most memorable ones are the unexpected ones with strangers.

They are memorable because of how they change you and set in motion a cascade of opening doors or provide the liberation of butterflies from within your stomach.

Without such encounters, how you move through the world would not be different; you would not have the depth of understanding or know-how to view the horizon from the different perspective it deserves.

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Earlier this week, I was blessed with such an encounter—meeting a stranger at my local garage.

I was there with my wife’s car for a yearly Ministry of Transport (MOT) test for roadworthiness.

I imagine the stranger, she, an older lady, was there for the same reasons.

She was sitting cross-legged, with her phone in hand, on the far end of a black faux-leather sofa in the waiting room area.

I have come to know waiting rooms are all the same; whether you are waiting at the doctor's, dentist's, hospital, school, or garage, they all have one thing in common — they carry an uneasy sense of anticipation.

There is the person or thing you are waiting for, and then there is the unspoken fact that you never know who will turn up next.

First Encounters

I looked at the lady as I approached the sofa and immediately guessed she was a few years older than me by the sun spots I could see on the back of her hand as she patiently held and scrolled through her phone.

A smile as bright and shiny as her patent leather shoes greeted me. She immediately broke the ice by moving her caramel-coloured handbag while apologising.

“Look at me all sprawled out, taking up all the space,” she said, making herself more compact.

There was no need, as there was plenty of room for two, her handbag and more, but I immediately welcomed the open gesture to share the available space and said, “No, not at all; it is the sort of thing I do,” mortified at the fact that she might take that to mean manspreading.

As I sat down, further smiles were exchanged as she looked up from her phone.

Hearing the stiffness in her vocal cords confirmed my initial assessment that she was older, not a threat, and comfortable with my presence.

The idea of me manspreading — not that I do, did not appear to register, and if it did, she was not giving much away. Besides, there was her handbag, which could act as a protective buffer.

The Business of Negotiating Shared Spaces

Phones can be a useful tool for hiding if that is your choice.

This simple exchange and welcoming act successfully negotiated the first challenge of meeting and conversing with strangers. The questions we all ask ourselves are: Is it safe to interact? Is it safe to be here?

The following calculation is how to face the awkwardness of sitting beside a stranger on a sofa for an unspecified amount of time.

Such proximity brings a catalogue of questions and decisions to make. Do we sit in silence and busy ourselves with technology? Phones can be a valuable tool for hiding if that is your choice.

Do we reach for a magazine or book to bury our heads, or do we gaze and look everywhere in the room, avoiding eye contact as if playing a solitary yet intense game of eye spy?

There is, of course, another option, and that’s the option I always prefer to take if I feel comfortable with the first challenge of meeting someone new.

On reflection, I now realise that before the additional option can be taken, a series of micro-decisions must be made on whether you view the situation as an opportunity or a dilemma in negotiating a shared space.

Do you acknowledge or ignore the chasm separating you and another individual — because, after all, you are both strangers sitting on a sofa?

Or do you embrace the significance of such a moment, which can feel like an eternity unless one or both of you are prepared to extend a rope ladder or drawbridge for the other to cross?

Crossing this juncture requires an act of courage whose outcome is never guaranteed, but without an attempt, there is no path to discover; there is no instant in which you stand at the threshold of your world and a stranger's world and bear witness to how much alike and different you are.

Bridges Across the Silence

So, looking at the stranger on the sofa, I said, “There is an art to burning dead time.”

She replied and immediately stopped scrolling with a smile and recognition, “Ah yes, there is; what can you do? Do you catch up on all those things you have been meaning to read?”

“Or do you…,” the conversation continued.

That was it; that was the drawbridge to having a meaningful conversation while waiting.

I was there with my laptop, which I never opened, and the lady with her phone, which she had put down.

We both accepted the invitation to fill dead time and grasp the additional option as it presented itself for a Tête-à-tête and further dialogue about family, work, aspirations, challenges and more.

In this brief moment, sitting on the sofa, it was as if the mechanical heaviness of the world softened, and we were just two people facing uncertainty, the living embodiment of John Legend’s song, Ordinary People — taking it slow.

We’re just ordinary people
We don’t know which way to go
’Cause we’re ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow

There was no stumbling and stifling of opinions and conversation on polarising topics such as religion, politics, and identities. There was no small talk about the weather.

It was simply two people having a conversation, holding space for one another and enjoying each other's presence, with no expectation and driving towards an outcome.

In reflecting on our discussion that evening, it struck me that conversations with strangers perhaps flow more easily when both parties practice the art of presence and occupying a shared space.

When there is no history, baggage, or direction in which the conversation must go, it has a natural, almost organic feel.

Exchanges like this are so easy when both parties can stay in the moment and let the communication flow.

I have enough fingers and toes to count the frequency of such a shared experience, and I often wonder if the unexpected nature has a claim to opening the doorway to the magic that flows.

Of course, you could attribute a deeper meaning to such encounters if you believe that every interaction between the people we meet and the words we say has a purpose.

In our conversation, I remember how we both agreed that so much of life is about figuring out what you want and need on your terms, with the added affirmation kindly provided by the lady that “sticking up for yourself and standing your ground” is just as essential.

I remember agreeing with her at the time, but if I could go back on our conversation, I know I would be curious to explore the vigour and passion behind her words.

Perhaps that's what most of our communication is about: the feeling we convey, just like Maya Angelou said.

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel — Maya Angleou

The Gift of Presence

Over several interactions, how people make you feel is always a good measure of a relationship, and perhaps that is what we must hold on to; our interactions are about the feelings we generate and hold for each other.

From first interactions to lifelong friendships, words can be many and sometimes too much to remember, but feelings — feelings are something else.

When I think about my interaction with the lady and how I felt afterwards, I know feelings are the by-product of our words and the testament of our thinking and beliefs.

They are the sum of our experiences, like how the lady listened, set her phone aside, turned her body towards me, and showed me what true presence looks like.

Feelings, good and bad, are what we absorb as they become part of us.

Sometimes, we acknowledge them viscerally, within our bodies; sometimes, we conjure them to the surface and play them out in our memories and imagination.

I know the memory of this meeting, while waiting with a stranger who notably transformed with joy when talking about her family and showed quiet strength when talking about challenges, will remain with me for a long time.

Not only because it was a pleasant experience, but also because it was a masterclass lesson and reminder that the feelings we hold and generate for one another count.

But most of all, when we are present and hold space for one another, we step into our greatness and become far more than just ordinary people.

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Thanks for reading, and a big thank you to our wonderful editors

May More

and

Diana C.

at Know Thyself, Heal Thyself 😊

If you would like to witness examples of interactions and the making of connections, check out this recently discovered YouTube channel, Thoraya, where the creator simply asks, “Can I walk with you?”

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