It’s often said that what we’re seeking is seeking us. I seek connection. In the gift moments of life, this connection is simple, clear, heartfelt and true.
Last Thursday at the self-checkout area of the supermarket, I realized I’d forgotten my discount fob. In an aisle with a live person at the register, I would have given my phone number. But I didn’t know how to negotiate this simple transaction with a machine. I stepped over to the cashier in charge of self-service who, at that moment, was ringing up a few items for a fellow worker heading home at the end of a shift. She noticed me and turned to ask how she could help. When our eyes met, we both smiled as if recognizing an old friend. I asked my question, and she gave me the answer. When she finished helping her co-worker, she came over to be sure the instructions had worked. Indeed they had. Minutes later, when I had a coupon snafu, we enjoyed a good laugh—just two souls from different cultures sharing the recognition of a joyful life.
Later, I walked the Hudson River trail at a nearby park. A man with two fishing poles secured in the bank of the river stood quietly by. He interested me—an older fellow with long gray hair, moustache, cap—Native American looking, I thought. I was drawn to his energy, thought about striking up a conversation, thought that might seem weird, and decided to do it anyway. Catch anything? I called out as I walked by. Oh yes, he replied, yesterday I got a carp this big! He held out his hands to more than two feet in length. Wow, I said, assuming by his enthusiasm that was a good catch. I’m going for striped bass. He added, It’s a good river. I agreed, and then I pointed to a small tree nearby. The leaves are finally budding! His eyes got big. He hadn’t noticed. He’d been focused on the river, and I on the trees. When he looked back at me, he smiled warmly. His eyes were now lit up. Connection.
A friend with young children once shared this story with me. A few families who’d been shopping later at night found themselves piling kids and groceries into their cars at the same time. As my friend’s wife called to him to get in the car, he hesitated. He’d just seen another dad give a good push to his empty cart in a direct line with the shopping cart return corral. In a moment of synchronicity, a small group of dads watched as the cart sailed across the parking lot, landing in graceful precision between the “goalposts.” Arms and cheers went up in this shared bonding of parking lot athleticism.
What a gift when we are present to this moment to find that someone else is awake, too. What is hidden is revealed, what is sought is found, and we are connected.