We live our lives in layers

We live our lives in layers.

I walked through the airport a few weeks ago all layered up.  Phone in hand, I was walking with a purpose, eyes open and unseeing.  I was going on a trip to take a breath.  To slow down.  I was getting away with plans to fall in love with life again.  I wanted to have an affair with the present.  I wanted it to sweep me off my feet and learn to lay in its embrace.

I meant to pack ever so simply--sundresses only.  But somehow I arrived at the airport with 3 oversized bags full of clothes for every occasion, a laptop, camera, phone and over a DOZEN books.  How embarrassing.  How does this happen?  How do my decisions get so blurry?  How do my intentions get so buried?  Here I was--taking a just me trip to Florida to see friends who always fill my cup.  I was on my way to see big water on beaches that would open me up.  But standing there on the sidewalk outside the airport struggling with my bags--I realized that in order to craft the kind of trip I truly wanted, I'd have to leave my cozy layers behind.  I'd have to meet the eyes of the people around me.  I had to choose right then to turn with curiousity when someone spoke my name.  I must shrug the hurry and hustle off my shoulders and let my bare skin taste everything around me.  Inspiration had to start here--now--or it never would.  The problem is, wherever I go--I take me along.  My comfy layers were sure to follow me to Florida if I wasn't careful.  I had to check the self protection right there if I wanted to come home any different.  Slowly I could feel the layers fall away.  I checked my bag and got a little lighter.  I put my phone down and almost floated away.  I stood in line--eyes wide open, face vulnerable and I dared to look and see the people next to me.

Just then I noticed the woman in line just ahead of me.  Her name was Pamela and she had very wrinkly elbows.  I wondered when my elbows would begin to wrinkle and then I wondered about how wisely I was spending the time I have in my skin. I wouldn't have seen her and wondered anything if I had fallen into my phone, like the rabbit hole it is.

I headed into meet the TSA and all the time resisted the urge to hurry because honestly--I had plenty of time.  I generally have plenty of time.  Hurry isn't always necessary.  But it's contagious and we pass it on to one another.   I had to keep myself from pushing to the front of the lines out of ugly habit. Why do line's encourage impatience?  So I let people go ahead and noted the surprise on their faces.  Eye contact was rare-all eyes were down on devices.  What are we all afraid of?  A few minutes of silence and still?  Maybe this is just the medicine we need.  I resisted the stubborn urge to take my phone out to steal a look--my fingers needed a hit.  "Hi, I'm Lexi and I'm an i-phone junky."  Instead of giving in to the phone on fire in my bag--when people talked to me--I talked back to them.  I smiled at the people waiting with me.  Without a busy baby in my arms the whole wide world looked brand new.  I missed my baby boy at home and borrowed his eyes for just a minute.  I bet this is how he sees every day--big and wild and inviting.

I noticed how much margin was mine.  I was wealthy in time and the feeling sent a shiver up my spine.

With my new perspective I was overwhelmed with how crazy/fun people were to look at.  My flowy green pants and turquoise jewelry took their place in the collage of clothes.  Most people seemed to be dressed for success and marathons.  There were tall girls waiting to board in sports gear layered under backpacks and tiny girls sporting poms and hair bows.  I saw so many immaculate men with important looking watches.  There was an unshaven man to my left with crazy hair, hidden in a hoodie.  I walked and looked and tried not to gape.  There were moms in heels.  Moms in crocs.  Moms in ponytails and suit jackets.  So many freckles.  All these lives I'll never know.  So much story.  Normally right this minute I'd be a million miles from here, lost in my phone-settling safely into social media--immune to the present, just scrolling through pictures and looking at interesting things far away when there were interesting things right there in front of me.

A little boy tugged on his mommas arm to tell her how long his device would stay charged.  He was proud to know the information down to the minute.  I felt sad for him because maybe he was meant to know other things in that intimate way.  Say the same smart sandy haired boy was watching for the very minute the apricot tree in his backyard bloomed.  What if he memorized how many days there was between bloom and leaf--what would a shift like this mean to the world?  Perhaps if his mind (and mine) had more time to wonder--instead of being dazzled by battery life or mindcraft--he would know what it means for spring when the buzzard flies overhead.  Maybe he would have a knack for finding morel mushrooms?  Instead he fills his little head with how many minutes he can look into a little black square and be entertained.  We all do.  And we've named it progress.

I saw a little brown boy with curly hair--looking as near to perfect as I've ever seen.  Our eyes met because I was staring.  He startled me with a cheery hello.  We were two of the few with our eyes up.  I smiled my hi and looked away.  My hope was restored in humanity.  One polite child and I felt like we'd all be okay.  My eyes flitted from person to person--taking it all in.  I wondered if people have any idea how beautiful they are.  They are breathtaking.  I had the urge to tell them.  Without my layers on, I could feel all the energy swirling and I could see their soul sparks.  Suddenly the whole room was a firecracker--full of human spark and flash.  Big bursts and small ones.  I wish I had the kind of time to tell each person what I saw in them that day.  I realized that this was really weird thought and yet--I kinda wished I knew what people saw when they looked at me.  I saw sadness in shoulders.  I saw hurry in feet.  I saw so many restless eyes and painted lips.  I saw quick smiles transform faces.  Smiles are a happy kind of epidemic that spreads to all that make eye contact.  I caught one and was infected.  I saw furrowed eyebrows and fluttering lashes.  When the lonely brown gentleman raised his eyes to meet mine I got a little jolt and thought, "Oh!  Well, there ya are!"  It's totally wild how no one looks the same--though we all seem to be trying to match the names of our purses and the roll of our jeans.

We live bundled up in layers for storms that never come at all.  There are few things on this earth more ridiculous than a snowsuit in summer.  But we layer up anyway--living our lives for just in cases.  We only slip our layers off every once in awhile--if we must.  Otherwise, we walk through airports and work spaces and coffee shops--never making contact.  Our phones and screens and TVs insulate us and slip over our eyes so we can't see.  Numb is blind--so we are insulated from pain and joy alike.  We are so busy.  busy.  busy.  TV, music, social media, text, emails-- these things swallow our days.  Whatever happened to tinkering and thinking? Netflix steals our hours and somehow makes us believe our moments are scarce and not our own.  So we rush around and order our groceries and subscribe to everything that promises faster.

As I lost my layers my eyes were wide in seeing.  My ears were perked in listening.  With my insulation gone, I could feel the spark or chill of all the souls I passed.  I felt the warmth coming off of some people--pulling me in and I felt the frosty air blow off some too.  I wondered which was me...

I resolved to take a chance and do my entire trip--6 days, layer free--vulnerable to whatever the present held for me.  6 days sounded like the perfect amount of time to erase the idea of interruption.  Joy, pain, action, empathy, or otherwise--I decided I would just take it as it came.  It would be a hard and holy work--shedding my self protection.  What if an unexpected storm blew my way?  Maybe I'd freeze....or maybe I'd just feel.