Serene Oasis
In these days of staying in, rushing out only to the grocery store, seeing friends outdoors, social scientists say that we are missing the people who are our weak ties. We miss our interactions with people we see regularly, yet briefly, and the gift of their friendly banter. Our barista, favorite store employee, and bartender. The kids’ soccer coach or piano teacher. It’s winter, and I keep ordering a farm bag every week for the charm of catching up with Meg and Russ, the farm owners. I see my haircutter every now and again, more than I see my dad, because, as someone wrote online recently, “when my hair gets too long, I get cranky and make bad decisions.” Yup.
When I lived in Detroit, I regularly went to see people in the emergency room of Sinai-Grace Hospital, a frantic and overwhelming place. (I often overheard such interesting questions, as, from a family member to the doctor, "Did you recover the bullet? What caliber was it?") As people waited in quiet panic, or heard their bad news in low voices, there was one oasis of calm. With layers of sorrow all around her, the young woman who worked at the reception desk radiated stillness. No matter how many times she answered the same question, she was never impatient. No matter how many times she answered the same question for the very same people, she returned kindness for harshness. When the line was long, and people were anxious, she never was.
She made me believe in the strong power of even weak-weak ties. Even someone who’s not in our regular routine can lower our heart rate, or add zip to our day. Watching her work, as people waited, shifting from foot to foot, was a lesson in the Zen of calm.
This week, I had an onscreen visit with a new doctor, and she asked different questions from any other doctor I’ve ever had. She balanced her knowledge with a generous way of listening. I felt like the expert on my own experience while she was the expert on the medicine. I don’t usually leave the doctor’s office smiling; this time I did. A new weak-weak tie.
I feel the same way about the server at a restaurant I used to go to, and about the woman at the Post Office who took my package. Even our weak-weak ties have a big impact.
Lately, I have been practicing expressions of disdain behind my mask, for people who don't wear theirs. Now I see that I should be shaping my face into displays of compassion. Can I manage to lift my head from my own pandemic stress and be someone else’s weak-weak tie, adding a punch of joy to their day? Hoping so.
-- Mary Austin. (The image above is via Pexels.)