I love people. I really do. The intricacies of human existence and behavior are so overwhelmingly fascinating. If I could sit in coffee shop window and watch the world go by for hours and hours, I would be perfectly content.
When I watch a movie, I find myself dwelling on the other characters, the extras, whose only role is to fill in space around the main characters, to create a more realistic atmosphere. Who are they, really? What are their stories? Everyone has a story. Watching a movie, reading a book...it's like looking through binoculars, focusing on the life of one person, while just beyond the rim are a thousand more stories that will never get told.
When I walk down the street, when I’m sitting alone in a crowded room, I watch the people around me. They all have stories. They all have hopes and dreams, fear and pain, exquisite joy and unimaginable loss. Who are they? I’ll never know. But the things I see, the snippets of conversation I overhear, are significant. They leave an impression on my life. What’s more, they alter the world.
Think of it this way: the world is a huge canvas. At the beginning of time, it was completely blank. A beautiful, white landscape aching for a splash of color. Throughout the history of time, every single person who has ever lived has taken the paintbrush of their life and made their mark on the world canvas. For some people, it’s just a little splash of paint. For others, it’s a huge, sweeping brushstroke that covers an enormous amount of space. Regardless of size, every single stripe of paint touches someone else's streak. You can’t go through life without affecting someone else. You can’t go through life without making your mark on the world canvas.
The things I hear and see on a daily basis make wonder who the people around me are. I can’t tell their stories, but I can share what I observe. Who knows where they will go from here? All I know, is for that moment, their splash of paint has brushed against my own. In an instant, they have made their mark on my life.
Walking through the Humanities building, I see a couple. They are about to part ways. She is standing at the beginning of the hallway, preparing to leave the building. He has already started walking away, but they are continuing their conversation. It is an extended good-bye, as well as an exchange of “I love you”s. Wondering at their relationship, I glance at the man’s hand. Ringless. Proceeding down the hallway, I check the girl’s. A rather thick silver band, containing a single large diamond, rests comfortable there. Ah, so they’re engaged. Probably for a while too, as they don’t ooze any of the nauseating cuteness one normally associates with newly-engaged couples. As I pass by, I catch this conversation:
Man: “You have a Doctrine and Covenants test today!”
Woman: “I know, but I’m 90% done!”
Man: “With studying?”
Woman: “No with the Hunger Games! I’m 90% done.”
In that moment, I felt a connection. How many times in my life had I put off studying or homework in order to finish a book I just couldn’t put down? With Hunger Games, especially. If you want to finish a book in a day, you need to be willing to put your life on pause, which is difficult to do in college. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to read the Hunger Games series in college. Not if I wanted to do well in school. When it comes to priorities, amazing books have always trumped schoolwork. And the Hunger Game series? Like Harry Potter, or Artemis Fowl, or Percy Jackson, or the Da Vinci Code, they are most definitely one-day books.
After I left the Humanities building, I was reflecting on this little exchange when my allergies got the best of me and I sneezed. Quite fiercely. A random man, sitting on a wall in the courtyard, holding his afternoon meal in a Tupperware container, said “Bless you!” Surprised that a stranger would observe this social nicety, which many (including me) find unnecessary, I replied “Thank you!” He responded with “And Happy Pi Day!” Now, that closing statement may seem very odd, but today is March 14. 3/14. 3.14. Pi. BYU is very into the celebration of the Pi day. Today on campus, they had a math festival. The mathletes had emerged from the dark recesses of the Engineering and Science buildings to grace my lovely Brigham Square with their numeric glory. There were also copious amounts of pie. The dessert, not the number. In other words, the expression “Happy Pi Day!” is not odd at all, but a friendly reminder of this most hallowed holiday. It leaves me to wonder on the nature of this young man, who wishes a small, female stranger a Happy Pi Day. I would assume that he is a math-lover, but he could just be an enthusiast of unusual holidays. One thing I can be sure of, however, is that he is kind.
Or he could just think I’m cute. Either works.
Many more strangers crossed my path this day, whether it was an actual interaction or simply something I observed. There was the woman who asked for helping finding the lost and found (note the irony), the elderly female professors who rode the elevator with me and established an extremely brief connection, the girl I performed the “passing shuffle” with (that is, we tried to pass each other, but performed an intricate back-and-forth dance instead). All of these people left their small speck of paint on my life. Will this matter in the future? I don’t know. Will I remember these times years from now and recognize their impact on my life? I don’t know. Will they have any impact whatsoever on my life? I don’t know.
When a butterfly flaps its wings in China, does it cause a hurricane in Florida?
Probably not, but then again, you never know. The smallest incidents can have an enormous affect. You just never know.
Food for thought.
Emily <3
Well, you just have to know that I absolutely LOVED this!!!!!!!!!!!
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