meteoratheory

Transatlanticism. What a great word.

It’s also a song by Death Cab, a crazy good one at that. I’m not sure why that’s relevant but maybe it will be as this goes on.

I hear every once in a while that “finding a good conversation is rare,” or that “conversation is overrated.”

I mean, in today’s world, it’s more acceptable to browse through hundreds of photos on your feed and dish out generous double taps as likes to people who you haven’t said a word to in years, rather than go to your contacts and say hi. So it’s understandable. We are fast moving creatures.

I like to think I’ve lived a pretty colorful life so far, and a lot of that is attributed to just being open, asking questions and trying my best to not be an asshole. Great things have come about from making a connection.

Being uptight sucks. Thinking you’re too good to talk to someone or offer help makes you suck. Stop those things. Maybe that conversation will lead to something really interesting.

Now, I’m not talking about the conversation that makes you decide you want to ask that girl on a date or the one that introduces you to the guy who’ll invest in your foolhardy genius start-up idea of selling glitter to your enemies. I’m talking about the possibility of a conversation or a person that changes the very fundamental way you see things, that makes you question everything in a different light.

Here’s a little story about one of those times for me.

It was on an flight back from Alberta with friends after a conference. Exhausted and fairly numb to human interaction after a whirlwind week, I just wanted to collapse in bed for a few months.

I sat in the aisle seat beside a middle aged woman who moved around constantly, bobbing her head to what sounded like heavy metal music. Great.

She opened the blinds to the window seats to take photos what seemed like every minute. Seriously, can I shut my eyes for a second. My head was throbbing and her iPhone camera shutter would sound like a gunshot every time it sounded. How many versions of the damn sky was this lady going to put up on Instagram? Where is your mute sounds on phone button.

Eventually she turned to me as the pilot announced that we were arriving in an hour and whispered, “Hi.” Unamused, I said hi back.

“First time in Toronto?” she asked.

“No, I live here.”

“First time for me!” she said enthusiastically. “This is the second trip of my new life.”

Slightly intrigued, I asked her what she meant by her “new life” knowing full well the more wise choice probably would have been to say “cool.”

She proceeded to tell me her story in an all-at-once kind of way. She was born and had spent her whole life in a very secluded Mormon community in a rural part of British Columbia, somewhere called “Bountiful” if I remember correctly.

She had 5 children and until very recently, little to no idea about anything outside of where she lived. Her community had around 1000 people and polygamy was something very common there. I’d heard about this kind of thing somewhere.

I was perplexed. But you seem so normal. 

She was not allowed to work, get an education, have a cellphone or Internet access, talk to other men or leave the community. She had a strict curfew and a husband that apparently was abusive and insisted she stay home. It was a little weird hearing her just openly describe all of this. But she didn’t know any other way of life.  All of this shocked me, but I just sipped away at my Mott’s Clamato like it was no big deal, nodding. Secluded, like that, in BC?

One day her mother who lived out east in NS after leaving a long time ago, connected her with someone who gave her a means to meet up in Halifax. Apparently this was against the rules where she lived but she managed to escape her community with the contact’s help. There, she said discovered what it meant to be free. I was amazed. It was really cool how her eyes lit up. The way she described everything she’d seen.

She said that it took the entire plane ride to work up the courage to say hi to me.

She said she still had anxiety and nervousness when talking to people but she was trying her best to talk to whomever she could.

It was like watching a toddler describe their first day at school.

She’d never had a phone before or gone on the Internet. It was all new to her and it all seemed incredible. This completely unassuming middle aged woman who could just as easily have been a soccer mom.

She said she felt free of her community’s restrictions. Her children stayed with her mother and she was taking time to travel the world.

“It’s amazing… There’s so much to see, and I don’t have much time left. I want to see every province first and then see the United States of America. Then maybe Europe… Asia, who knows! I’ll need to find a means to do all that but I’ll find a way.”

Completely impressed by her openness, I told her about where I was in life and how it was a pretty confusing but exciting time. Frankly, the whole idea of getting a job, getting a home, working 9-5 and just saving for vacation didn’t seem all that appealing.

I remember, that all she did was just listen. And then sat back and after a while, said I should “stop living someone else’s life and make your own.” That was all.

Getting off the plane, it was just a “what just happened?” kind of feeling. And somehow that made the entire conversation so memorable.

That and her story. To think how lucky we all are to walk this world and see the things we get to see. That was my conversation – one that had a big impact on me.

So even if you become a big shot CEO or a famous actor/actress or the next Kanye, always be humble, always be curious. The man helping the kids cross the street could have been a WWII veteran. The lady owning the convenience store might have been a surgeon back home.

I’ve lived in the same area for about 10 years now and every weekend, I see the same old man bagging my groceries in the express aisle. I’ve never said more than “Thanks,” “debit” or “credit” to him. This past weekend, I thought I’d take a look at his name card. Ihab.

“Hey, Ihab.” Why not.

Oh, and here’s a Link to Transatlantacism by Death Cab for Cutie Go listen