My walks to and from work afford me a great deal of time to think and analyze the world in which I now dwell. This experience has been, to use a cliché, a mixed blessing. I tend to overanalyze situations, so an extra hour and twenty minutes of solo time does not remedy this situation, but it does give me time to come up with creative and unusual ideas. Anyway, I had a thought while walking to work yesterday, coupled with an experience I had at the gym on Sunday.

This whole train of thought came about when I went to the gym at Seattle U on Sunday. I was suffering through a workout. Working back up to my level of fitness is difficult, and I especially hate that the treadmills face mirrors: I know that I look like I’m suffering. I was in the midst of the second half of my workout when a student came and used the treadmill next to mine. I tried not to stare at him as he jumped onto the machine and to focus on my own running. After a while, though, I heard something through the song blaring on my headphones. I thought at first that the guy on the treadmill was talking to me, an unusual, though not novel, phenomenon. I’ve had people speak encouragement before. After a minute, however, it became obvious that the guy was singing as he was running. I had to smile, because I’ve done that during runs in the country to kill the pain and boredom of a seven mile run. The experience made my day. I wished that I had the confidence to burst into motivating song in front of a gym of strangers. I’ve never been that free, though I would guess that few people are.

I walk by a multitude of people in my travels around the city, and something I’ve noticed is that people largely dwell in their own worlds as they walk. I’m apt to believe that this coldness comes from living in a large city. We’ve all heard the stereotypes of people in cities marching to their offices, focused only on getting to their destination. I hope that I don’t embody this stereotype now, especially since it’s something that I’ve never really done before. We remain strangers, trapped by our technology and these strange mandates that restrain affection for life. I’m reminded of a quote from You Shall Know Our Velocity!:

Love is implicit in every connection. It should be. Thus when absent it makes us insane. It breaks our equilibrium and we have to flounder for reasons. When we pass someone on the street without telling them we love them it’s cruel and wrong and we all know this. We live in a constant state of denial and imbalance.

 Now, I’m not saying that I want a hug and a conversation with everyone I pass, but I’ve grown used to forms of greeting when I pass people, given my experiences at Canisius and at home. On the way to class, for example, if I walked by someone I didn’t know, I’d at least give them an awkward smile, a great skill of mine. At home, the situation was even friendlier: if I chose to walk to work, I’d say hello to most everyone I met. In Seattle, on the other hand, people are very wrapped up in their own lives. Most walkers, myself included, are tethered to IPods or cell phones. One of my housemates mentioned this fact during our first week here, complaining that no one would make eye contact as she passed them on her way to work. It’s an interesting statement of society that we barely acknowledge all the other people around us, though the streets team with strangers.

On my walk to work yesterday, I had a fun thought, as result of the guy at the gym: what if all the people who had IPods on their morning walks had to burst into song or the people on their phones had to shout their conversations? What would that reveal about people’s inner lives that we don’t get from just walking past them without acknowledging their individuality? I’ve seen people sing to themselves downtown and in Pioneer Square, but I’d be very interested to see it happen in hipster Capitol Hill. Maybe the skinny hipster kid actually listens to Verdi, while that mother walking her dog listens to AC/DC. Maybe the man on his cell phone is talking about the way his wife makes coffee. How much could we reveal of our inner lives to the world if we’d only allow ourselves to be vulnerable and a little unusual sometimes? Maybe saying hello to strangers is the first awkward step forward on the path to breaking open a shell imposed by the world.