The silent woman

Does she know how she impacts me?

photo by Yunshuo Qu

There is a silent woman I always see at the café.

She always wears the same expression, which looks like grief to me, like a resignation to long-term suffering.

When I see the way she walks, how she always slows her movement as she gets in or out of a chair, I also imagine that she lives with chronic pain. She rarely takes off her winter jacket or hat even when she isn’t sitting near the door.

Of course, I don’t really know what’s going on inside her. But the fiction in my mind develops a little more each time I see her. And I see her all the time.

We’ve never spoken.

In fact, I’ve only ever seen her speak to ask someone whether a seat is taken along the back wall of the cafe. She often has a book or magazine, but I rarely see her read. Mostly she just watches time pass, that same expression on her face, firm, joyless.

Today, I lift my head each time she passes. I try to welcome her with my eyes without seeming to stare, but she does not see me. When she moves through the cafe she is almost always looking down. When she sits, she looks at her hands or out the window.

Today, I formed the intention to make eye contact, to smile. Perhaps, one day, I will say hello? Yet even as I think this, I admit that she might not welcome such a greeting.

So, why do I wish to disturb her?
Or - is it true that this would be a disturbance?
How else would I find out unless I try?
But - why exactly do I want to find out?

I suppose it’s because there is a kind of pattern to our two routines unfold together. It has a certain feeling to it. I come to this cafe regularly, in various moods, but her mood always seems to be the same.

Whatever else I’m feeling, I feel sad when I see her. Perhaps it’s none of my business and, again, perhaps I’m entirely wrong about her, but I find myself wishing she could be happier - and it’s that very wish that makes me cautious.

Perhaps this is more about me than her?
Maybe I’m just trying to avoid my own discomfort?
And what could be worse than someone trying to engineer how you feel,
especially a stranger acting on his superficial observations?

These thoughts remind me to go easy with my little campaign for eye contact.

Don’t force it. Just be open and hold this intention of kindness.
Maybe she will notice and maybe she won’t.
And either way, it’s entirely ok.

I wonder, even as I write these words, seeing her at the edge of my peripheral vision,

Does she feel my energy?
Does she feel my thoughts?
Does she feel that I am invading her space?

Of course, it’s likely that she pays me no mind at all. All the same, I try to sense the silent vibrations that I am sending out into the cafe and somehow soften them. I invite myself to soften on the inside. I imagine my body expanding and the pores of my skin opening wider. I take a slow breath and silently wish her well.

I wonder,

What she would think, what she would say, if she knew how she impacts me?
Would she be surprised to know how curious I am to see her smile?

I have often noticed the ripples that pass through my body when I watch a person with a poker face suddenly brighten, smiling or laughing, a flash flood of color appearing where before there was none.

But with the silent woman, I have never seen this happen.

In fact, just now she stood to put her coffee cup in the dirty dish bin and looked straight at me as she turned around. But we did not make contact.

Her gaze bounced off mine in a microsecond, redirecting elsewhere, as if following a previously programmed sequence. It didn’t even feel like avoidance. It was as if our eyes didn’t even know the keys to each other’s locks. Her expression never changed.

Now she is gone, but I know I will see her again soon since we’re both regulars here.

I know I will feel her too.

Over the years, working on myself and working on my relationships, I’ve realized that there can never be a complete separation between how I feel and the feelings of the people around me - or, if there is, I will feel that separation very clearly.

Observing these patterns, I’ve come to see that there are four basic postures that always manifest in the expression of love. They occur spontaneously when love is already here, but they can also be practiced to summon love when it is absent.

You’re warmly invited to one of two offerings next week of my 4 Postures of Love workshop (Tuesday 1/13 at 1pm EST & Thursday 1/15 at 8pm EST) which is all about getting grounded and connected. I’ll be leading guided meditation and somatic movement and also making space for journaling, and partner and group dialogues.