There's this woman who writes poetry in Vancouver, she walks the streets and will "sell you one for a dollar". She'll read one, you pay, she tries to sell another...then she carries on. I was with my wife once, she gave us one for free. I didn't listen to her words I must admit. Instead, I just stared at her face and drank in her emotions. She looks a bit like Janis Joplin did crossed with that scary hippy biker chic on the film CC and Company. (Damn Anne Margaret had it going on! But really...Joe Namoth?)
She isn't completely fit mentally but who is if we're completely honest right? I mean there was plenty of evidence suggesting she has her own issues and perhaps has medication too, but more than that, she has more guts than you or even I do. She's working through stuff, she's out there, she's sharing herself.
"More guts" may not be a fair comment. More ambition? Less inhibition? Less care about what other humans think?
She's the type of person you might wish to avoid should she suddenly appear on the pavement in front of you as you walk merrily along. You may not have even noticed her until she spoke to you directly...but she was there.
Think of your own hobby. Do you have the confidence to walk about the city peddling Its result to tourists, restaurant patrons and bar/club bound people? Not sure I do. I do however chat with people because I love people and their stories. I also dislike too many people.
When the people I do love do something that I interpret as "hurting me" I get confused. Why would people do that? Friends, family, mates at work...perhaps the transgression is a fabrication in my mind. Perhaps it wasn't deliberate. Perhaps the timing was off. Perhaps I'm too delicate or self-absorbed. YOU MUST ALWAYS MEET MY NEEDS kind of BS.
Truth is, we don't even know what our needs are do we? They're as ever changing as colours in a year of sunsets. Sure, our basic needs are obvious to the degree that we don't verbalize them let alone think of them, but what of those quiet little silly ones?
The hugs you need. The missing compliment on a fresh hair style or outfit. The gasp he didn't give as you sauntered past in lingerie. How she didn't mention she noticed how the colours were plated on food you prepared...
Maybe we need the ovaries of Poetry Woman. Perhaps we need to start asking outright and forget about clues or hoping that we'll get stroked the moment we need it. God knows I could learn from my ramblings.
When people I don't know or "love" hurt me, I'm reminded that I have no good connection with them, just a fleeting negative one. A rude woman in a queue, an ignorant guy driving like a fool, an elitist cyclist etcetera.
I'm reminded that there are over 7 billion humans on Earth and I only know a few.
I love surprising strangers and asking them to tell me a story. People usually share pleasant experiences that is, until we become friends...then the negative events are passed around. To me, this is a sure sign of needing to be heard. Needing to be understood. Needing to be needed...to be loved.
I'm not here to even slightly suggest that you rush right on out and make more friends though. Think of it in truth; friendship is one hell of an obligation that we all take too lightly. Being a friend is a massive responsibility with huge expectations intertwined within the accord. Being a Lover carries even more joy and burden!
We're too tired to be a friend. We're too self absorbed to be a good Lover. WE pick and choose mates, times and events. That's ok, really it is.
The church calls it "burn out" when Pastors get tired being friendly. I'm not sure what we call it though.
Perhaps we need to call a friend. Better still, knock on their door.
After all...looking down while walking along is not only rude, its lonely.