I had the good fortune of having both the time and resources to unplug for long enough to get a manicure and a pedicure. While at the nail spa there was a gentlemen who stood out from the common profile of the clients seeking pampering. The fact that he was a man made him a minority, but he was also unpolished, abrasive, and not a man you would expect to see with his feet soaking in a swirling pool of aqua blue warm water, in a massage chair.
I love going to the nail spa. It affords me enough time to enjoy a portion of an audio book or podcast that nourishes me, plus an added block of time to either listen to my spa music of choice, or just take in the environment around me.
I used to abhor overhearing spa talk. I would do anything to drown it out. I felt judgy, and possibly envious of the casual conversations that (mostly) women would engage in, and that seemed to have everything I didn’t: Healthy kids with luxurious complaints like too many friends or sporting events, plus the time to indulge in “non-productive” chatter. I was always on the tightest of schedules and was looking to check the self care box as quietly and efficiently as possible so I could get to the next task on my list.
Overhearing details of lives I would never know just poured salt in the wounds I was trying to escape from. I didn’t know how to take care of myself then, and my pretty nails may have been the only self-care habit I could guard for myself. But these days, I am open. Completely. For this evolution, I am humbled and grateful.
The male spa client answered and chatted on his cell phone, more than once during our treatments, a complete feaux pas in the salon. In those calls he shared multiple times, that his son had graduated high school that day and that he was going to college. He brought it up again when chatting with his “stylist” so we all knew about his son.
I couldn’t help but think: “If his son just graduated, why in the world is this man in the nail salon instead of celebrating with him? Wouldn’t they go to dinner? Or do something to commemorate the occasion?” (#judgy).
My next thought came with a syncing heart: “Yikes, maybe they are not in each other’s lives? Or perhaps he was not wanted in the graduation celebration?“ I tried to imagine that the trip to the nail spa was a break in the celebration action for this father, and not the highlight of the day. How painful it would be to not be part of whatever was happening to commemorate this accomplishment?! I said a silent prayer for him.
Then I remembered another nail salon experience, where a “stylist” had chatted my ear off during a treatment (at another facility.). She was accusatory, mumbling conspiracies about politics both here and in her home country, looking for my buy in. I wanted to say “I came here to relax and for self care, not to listen to such harsh and hateful talk.” But instead, I tipped her double (she received the silent prayer also.)
People perceived as “needy” are in deed, in need. They need our love, presence and acceptance more than most. They don’t need more judgment when they are desperately trying to be seen and heard in a world where they already aren’t. In that moment, we have a chance to help them along.
Back to the gentleman client. The judgy part of me wanted to say “Must be nice, you have a healthy son, who earned a football scholarship, who will attend college and grow into adulthood, may even have grandchildren that you can know and love.” I know that is not in the cards for my children (two of whom are deceased and my adult son Zach who is on nutritional life support.)
Then, my thoughts shifted from defense to compassion: “Wow, this man is here in a salon, instead of with his son. He has mentioned him several times, he must need to be seen and heard on this memorious occasion, and this is the place he is trying to do that.”
My heart went from constriction (not wanting to hear his voice) to expansion and curiosity (wanting to ask him about it.) How could I be the witness for this stranger? Could I give him the gift of affirming his moment of triumph? I then thought, as an African American man, the challenges of getting a young black man safely and successfully through childhood, high school and into adulthood was so much greater for this father, than it is for his non-minority counterparts. I felt even more empathy and appreciation for whatever his experience might be.
As his treatment was nearly finished, I turned to him, face mask intact and said “Congratulations on your son graduating, that is quite an accomplishment. You must be very proud!” He smiled under his mask and said “Yes! Thank you! I have three boys, one already in college, one on the way, and a 14 year old.” I replied with sincere respect and celebration, as if these boys were my own: “Amazing!”
This longer than usual post touches on a lot of different topics, all worthy of longer chats. For today, I wanted to illustrate the importance and exponential gifts, of being a witness for others. Seeing someone, hearing them, affirming their experience (miracle or tragedy) is a (free) transformative kindness we can give to our loved ones, and to strangers.
When I peel pack the ego-centric experience of seeing things only through “me” as the center of the universe, and recognize my innate ability to share love through bearing witness to the lives of others, my heart opens. I become generous. I can celebrate or even mourn WITH the person, instead of FOR them and we are both enriched by the process.
When you find yourself resenting a loved one, or a stranger who just won’t seem to “put a sock in it” and you wish they would stop repeating themselves, or talking at all, try taking the opposite approach. Lean into what they need: to be seen, be heard, to share. Try asking them for details, or at least letting them know you are present. Then see how this opens your own heart, and benefits your experience beyond the generosity of acknowledging the needs of another.
This need to be seen, heard and affirmed is universal. You may have even sought their fulfillment yourself, on occasion.