 The One Minute Relationship ... By Sherry R. Belul
Last week I was at a dance class called the 5 Rhythms. This is a moving meditation practice so we were all doing our own thing, focusing inward as we danced. At one point in the class, we were asked to walk (skip, step, glide, bop, hop) around the room.
"Start noticing that you are not alone in the room."
"Begin to be aware of the way you move amongst people; how others move and flow around you."
"If it feels comfortable, offer something to someone you pass - look him in the eye, offer a smile, extend a hand in greeting."
"Connect, if you choose to, for a brief moment, then let go."
"Notice how it is possible to have a relationship with someone in a small slice of time."
I am doing a one two-three kind of step. Step ball-chain I think they call it. I am step ball-chaining around the room, first in a neat circle, then beginning to figure eight into the center of the room and back out again. As often happens, I am shy about leaving my inner world and connecting to people in the class. But I do. Because it is what is being asked of me at the moment.
I notice a woman with long dark hair and long graceful arms gliding by me. I catch her eye and smile. She holds my gaze, smiling back. I lift an arm in greeting, slowly like a floating cloud, to a heavyset man in black sweatpants and a tee-shirt with a small dove on the pocket. He mirrors me, lifting one cloud arm in return. I am delighted. Then quickly shy again. Suddenly I am self-conscious about how to know who to reach out to, whom to offer things to, how to be. I want to slink away. Bow my head down. Hide.
But I continue with my step ball-chaining and then shift into simply sliding slowly across the floor. Slide. Stop. Slide. I am aware of people flowing around me, in their own rhythms. A woman with a purple scarf wrapped around her neck and a long brown skirt catches my eye and smiles broadly, holding me there for several seconds, then moving on. An older man with white cropped hair and huge blue eyes does what I think is a special little jig for me. To make me laugh. I think he can see my uncertainty. He draws me back in. I am grateful.
I am in a room full of strangers. Coming in and out of relationship. Noticing the way I open and close, like a kitten who curls into herself, then slowly opens one eye, sees if it is safe, and darts out into the middle of the room.
**
Following that class, all week long I hear a mantra in my head: "One-minute relationship." I am waiting for a bus and I look up from my book. There is an older woman with a wool cap on her head and a black scarf wrapped around her neck. She holds a big tote bag and looks weary. I wait to catch her gaze, and then I smile broadly. In my mind I think, "I hope this woman gets a surprise today that delights her. Maybe her son will call and invite her to dinner. Maybe her work will be a breeze." She gives me a small smile in return and I feel a connection between us.
At the taqueria in the afternoon, as I am paying the young man at the register, I notice he is wearing only a thin tee-shirt. I look him in the eye. "Aren't you cold with the door open all day?" He laughs, points behind him at the kitchen and says something in Spanish that I don't understand. Then he says, "The stove is like a furnace." I laugh. I think about how the folks who work there are on their feet all day long. I leave an extra dollar in the tip jar.
These are small things. Momentary connections. It doesn't sound like much, really. Looking someone in the eye. Pausing to comment. Waving that car in, ahead of you. Saying thank you. Asking a sincere question.
But the effects are cumulative. Instead of feeling like I'm rushing around in my own small world, I am suddenly hooked in. I am connected. There is something bigger happening. I am dancing at every turn. |
