mental snapshots
Things I think about..
Ever catch a glimpse of someone and wonder what their story is? I mean, outside of finding someone 'attractive'. I often wonder what makes people tick, what their lives are like and what experiences they have had that have influenced who they are today. I often say, I don't care what you "do" for a living, I care more about who you "are" for a living. People often can't answer one without the other yet, there are differences if you know yourself and can see yourself for the multidimensional being that you are. Social gathering are especially interesting regarding this.
So I find myself perpetually curious about people. Sometimes I ask them questions, but more often I just listen and observe. Sometimes I see their bigger picture forming before me, sometimes just a peak within. What really gets me thinking is when I don't have the opportunity to get up close and get to know someone. All I see is a physical glimpse of someone, having only my mental snapshot of them to use as a source of unanswered wonderment.
Christmas afternoon I took the quiet country roads out to my moms house on the lake. There wasn't any traffic, or snow, or anything remarkable overall. Yet two sightings left an impression on me, a common occurrence within my observing life, but they stood out nonetheless.
As I drove, I rounded a bend of the road that has a cemetery
located on it. Parked a long the dark gravel shoulder, a gray SUV barely stood out along the back drop of gray skies, bare trees and granite head stones. In the few moments that I passed by, I noticed the young woman standing an arms length away from a low headstone, head down, back straight, arms crossed. Her medium weight gray coat and dark slacks added to the already monotone palette of the day. I wondered what her story was. Who was she there for? Were her arms crossed to protect her from the elements or from her thoughts? Was it family? friend? Was she there out of love? guilt? Was she on her way somewhere else? and so on. Two seconds of observation to create an endless stream of thoughts to follow.
Then maybe ten miles later, I see an old man standing on the side of the road. A glance at his protruding arm and thumb indicates that he wishes to get somewhere. Approaching, I see his thick scraggly, gray and white wavy hair whipping around his face. He wore a sour expression along with his red and blue plaid flannel shirt, gray sweat pants, and tan slippers. No socks. Passing by, I see that he is on the shoulder at the end of a driveway to a large country house set back off the road. Was he a hitch hiker making his way to the next town? His sock-less feet and proximity to the house made me wonder if he simply walked out, frustrated over something or someone within those walls. Was he coherent or perhaps he was confused with dementia? In that same second, he is looking at me, looking at him. I nod in acknowledgment, but maintain my speed.He glances back at the house, confirming my thoughts that he likely lived or belonged there. Is someone about to come out for him? Is he hoping someone notices him? Is he seeking attention? Or perhaps he is waiting for somebody? My rear view mirror tells me that another car is not far behind me. Would it stop for this old man?
I continued my drive and glanced back at the man, the house and the approaching car until the car fell back further and further. I have to wonder if the car stopped for the old man. If it did, do they know each other? If not, did he get in the car? and so on..
There are stories around stories. There is a lot of information to be gleaned from a few details, yet there is so much more that we don't know. And just the same a few details can lend to using the imagination, for better or worse, to flesh out the rest of the picture.
ah yes, just a few things that I think about.
Ever catch a glimpse of someone and wonder what their story is? I mean, outside of finding someone 'attractive'. I often wonder what makes people tick, what their lives are like and what experiences they have had that have influenced who they are today. I often say, I don't care what you "do" for a living, I care more about who you "are" for a living. People often can't answer one without the other yet, there are differences if you know yourself and can see yourself for the multidimensional being that you are. Social gathering are especially interesting regarding this.
So I find myself perpetually curious about people. Sometimes I ask them questions, but more often I just listen and observe. Sometimes I see their bigger picture forming before me, sometimes just a peak within. What really gets me thinking is when I don't have the opportunity to get up close and get to know someone. All I see is a physical glimpse of someone, having only my mental snapshot of them to use as a source of unanswered wonderment.
Christmas afternoon I took the quiet country roads out to my moms house on the lake. There wasn't any traffic, or snow, or anything remarkable overall. Yet two sightings left an impression on me, a common occurrence within my observing life, but they stood out nonetheless.
As I drove, I rounded a bend of the road that has a cemetery
located on it. Parked a long the dark gravel shoulder, a gray SUV barely stood out along the back drop of gray skies, bare trees and granite head stones. In the few moments that I passed by, I noticed the young woman standing an arms length away from a low headstone, head down, back straight, arms crossed. Her medium weight gray coat and dark slacks added to the already monotone palette of the day. I wondered what her story was. Who was she there for? Were her arms crossed to protect her from the elements or from her thoughts? Was it family? friend? Was she there out of love? guilt? Was she on her way somewhere else? and so on. Two seconds of observation to create an endless stream of thoughts to follow.
Then maybe ten miles later, I see an old man standing on the side of the road. A glance at his protruding arm and thumb indicates that he wishes to get somewhere. Approaching, I see his thick scraggly, gray and white wavy hair whipping around his face. He wore a sour expression along with his red and blue plaid flannel shirt, gray sweat pants, and tan slippers. No socks. Passing by, I see that he is on the shoulder at the end of a driveway to a large country house set back off the road. Was he a hitch hiker making his way to the next town? His sock-less feet and proximity to the house made me wonder if he simply walked out, frustrated over something or someone within those walls. Was he coherent or perhaps he was confused with dementia? In that same second, he is looking at me, looking at him. I nod in acknowledgment, but maintain my speed.He glances back at the house, confirming my thoughts that he likely lived or belonged there. Is someone about to come out for him? Is he hoping someone notices him? Is he seeking attention? Or perhaps he is waiting for somebody? My rear view mirror tells me that another car is not far behind me. Would it stop for this old man?
I continued my drive and glanced back at the man, the house and the approaching car until the car fell back further and further. I have to wonder if the car stopped for the old man. If it did, do they know each other? If not, did he get in the car? and so on..
There are stories around stories. There is a lot of information to be gleaned from a few details, yet there is so much more that we don't know. And just the same a few details can lend to using the imagination, for better or worse, to flesh out the rest of the picture.
ah yes, just a few things that I think about.
And maybe you should have stopped for the hitchhiker, who know what fun you might have had! :::link:::