Just a Human

Last month, I made a few plane trips. I admit to you here that I like to just mind my own business in these kinds of situations—at airports, on airplanes. I occasionally will feel moved to have some limited friendly interaction, but I’m not a strike-up-conversations-with-strangers kind of gal. In the last couple of years, I have determined that I actually prefer the aisle to the window because I don’t end up looking out the window that much and on the aisle I feel like I have a little more room, plus I can go to the bathroom without disturbing anyone else.

So, on one of these trips, I got to my seat and there was a giant of a guy sitting in the middle seat, like his head was way above mine and he had the build of a WWF wrestler or a football player. He was wearing all black, his head was shaved and he was wearing his dark sunglasses. I notice right away that the armrest is up, which I hate, because as I’ve implied already, I like to have my own space and have that little bit of separation. (I just decided to be totally honest here even if I look like a weirdo, though I have noticed that I am not the only one not making eye contact in the airport).

This guy seems like a nice guy. He helps me adjust my reading light. Still, I notice myself trying to be more compact and leaning a little to the left. Then, he falls asleep and leans a little bit into me. Ahh, geez. And he wakes up and straightens himself out. This probably happens a couple of times before I have the realization that it’s not so bad, that it’s maybe even nice for this big stranger to lean his arm into my arm. I suddenly just feel like a human helping out another human and don’t feel averse to actual human contact. I sort of want to tell him that it’s okay, that he can lean on me when he falls asleep, but that seems like it will be weird. So I just try to send him the vibes that I don’t mind.

I don’t know if this is a yoga story. Maybe it’s about dvesha (aversion), one of the causes of suffering. Or about ahimsa (non-violence), the cultivation of kindness. Or satya (truthfulness), like the truth that we are all just humans. Or svadhyaya (self-study), looking at my own weird habits and investigating if they are useful or harmful. Or just a reminder that the word yoga means connection, so this is what all the practice is for, having more feeling of connection.

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving. I am thankful for that guy and that experience and I am thankful to all of you who read this blog.

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