#Friday 26.0: From A Stranger, I Learnt Once Again

With the first stanza of the song bellowing through my headphones, I had barely had the chance to write the final part of a new short story when the lady opposite me waved in my direction. Her soft eyes and warm smile caught my attention, and her colourful headscarf was a distraction from the grey interior of the train.

What is that device you are using? Is it like writing on paper she asked. She was referencing the tablet I had in my possession called ReMarkable. It’s the digital answer to writing on paper and quite the device compared to what’s on the market. But those specifics are not important.

I told her I was enjoying using this device even though I am a notebook geek. She commented that something like this would save her lots of time in her job. What do you do? I asked. I am a bereavement councillor she told me. We spent the next 20 minutes talking about the challenges she faced on a personal level due to her role. I could tell she was someone who was totally invested in her job, and was a big advocate for encouraging grieving parents to journal.

We then skipped onto the topic of the impacts of social media across all age groups, history of Indian men hiding their depression from family to Iranian heritage and emigrating to the UK. The lady next to us put down her book, and said you both sound like a podcast I’d want to listen to.

We finished on books and I told them about my writing journey. I wasn’t promoting and told them they were under no obligation to buy my book…but that if I ever met them on the train again I’d happily sign their copy.

I am grateful the lady with her soft eyes waved in my direction and talked to a total stranger. I was once that person many moons ago, and while I’d like to think I can strike up a conversation with anyone, I seldom engage on the train where once I connected with random people on so many occasions. Sometimes there’s no harm in taking a conversational chance on a stranger and I left my carriage better informed about many a things. And as I explained to the lady, I had a head full of new characters and ideas.

So Thank You nice lady, for talking to me, for taking an interest, and for letting me in through the door of your life. We may never meet again but what you’re doing is super valiant and supportive, and I will try never to dwell or moan about some of the petty things in my life.

#Friday 25.0: I talk to you, the way you talk to me

To really listen is to be moved physically, chemically, emotionally and intellectually by another person’s narrative

You’re Not Listening by Kate Murphy

On the very odd occasions when I don’t wear headphones on my train run (because I forgot them) it heightens my senses to the environment around me. The carriage on my 17.12 train home from London was surprisingly quiet this week and there was one particular commuter who didn’t seem too happy. I tried to ignore the conversation but I was mindful not to pin my hopes on my phone being a saving distraction.

While the topic of discussion is not important, what was notable was a very distressed woman talking on the phone to what sounded like her father, and with communication being the sticking point. The tone and style of the narrative within family can always be a tricky situation to manage and balance. Maybe the woman felt that the way her father spoke to her justified how she should communicate back, or maybe her tone justified her father’s tone. I am not going to judge as I don’t know the full context.

But, if two people are trying to level with each other and trying to control the narrative, then more often then not there are no winners. Feeling hurt, offended, our pride dented, or victimised will naturally leave us angry and unable to actually listen to what is being said. Then we won’t strive to reach a sound resolution. The art of being an improved listener is to read between the lines and uncover what is actually being communicated to us. What is the other person’s motives, their deep frustrations, pinch points that they may be struggling to articulate. Maybe to get to the root of the narrative is to push aside some of the branches and look beyond the surface.

Thankfully, the tone of that conversation changed as the stations passed us by. Oh, so you feel lonely at times and eating on your own…Bingo! The root message was conveyed and the daughter’s tone changed to one full of empathy. She got off soon after and it seemed there was positivity in the air.

Sometimes I think I’ll leave my headphones in the bag intentionally. There are lessons to be learned when we try and actually listen.

#Friday 24.0: Need for Speed to Outrun the “W” word

Now I don’t normally cycle into my local town, and tend to stick to the Kentish (UK) country lanes. But seeing I needed to stock up on more beard gel, and didn’t want to drive, it was a case of cycle for pickup and then ride the outskirts. As I skirted through town, gone were the smells of the local foodie shops, and replaced by the pungent smell of weed. Yep, and if I wasn’t stepping on the pedals with ferocious speed, I may have gotten high on someone’s supply. Are these the signs of the times to come?

Does your local town suffer a similar fate?

Assembled & Excused (A&E)

The Long Read

There’s something to be said about frustrated silences in a typical A&E ward. No amount of purple, lime green and white paint will spruce up the atmosphere here. But what these places do tell you is the relationship dynamics between people.
There’s a mother and her two children, they look like teenagers respectively. Foreign I am sure. Both have taken their jackets off and used them as either a back rest for their mother, or to keep her legs warm. Of the two the daughter seems made of stern stuff, and it’s evident she protects her younger brother. He looks visibly worried about his mother. I can tell because he hasn’t touched his phone for a while, doesn’t want the distraction that takes his focus away from his mum.

Stack-em