At the very edge of things
Isn’t it great how humans report to each other? We say things like “how was your day?” which is both a time-specific report (x1 day only) and requires specific agency (it was “your” day). Americans say things like “how are you holding up?” (no time limit but a qualitative pre-assessment of your context - you’re probably struggling in an unnamed context completely out of your control). The idea that today is yours gives all the power to you. The idea that you may or may not be holding up gives you none.
In a way, though, they’re both kind of true. Isn’t life kind of everywhere, happening to all of us, and also your experience of it is specific to you? Where does your life start and stop? I read a story the other day about a couple who had been together for years looking back through old family photo albums. They figured out they had met on a summer holiday when they were teenagers. There they were, standing on a rock together. She had thought that was another story. Another boy. He remembered it too, but that was a different girl. So how do we know which bits are relevant?
Public Service Announcement: your life is bigger than you think.
Life includes the people you watch while you’re waiting for the lights to change. There’s a charming barista who works in a cafe that’s on a corner I regularly pass in the car. I’ve never met her but I see her twice a day on my kids’ school run while waiting for the lights to change. We look for her now: making old ladies laugh, diving out of the street window to present small children with babychinos, leaning in the doorway listening to the locals, nodding, making them laugh. Never once has she noticed us. She has no idea we squeal there she is! when we spot her, and watch every move with a distant affection.
Life includes memories that surprise you in the middle of nowhere, nudged into your consciousness by a smell or a colour or the way a shadow moves. A half-remembered conversation. The way a ramp sloped on the way up the steps to a school excursion. A painting. A parent’s wristwatch.
We often judge ourselves (”how you holding up?“) in comparison with other people. Did you know that magpies recognise people? Heaps of birds do. They see you coming and think “This one’s okay, but look out for the one with the hat. We don’t like him”. Dogs pick up on all kinds of human traits, and so do cats. We have no way of knowing exactly how we feature in the lives of animals but just because they’re not in charge of our performance reviews we tend not to place their opinions of us at the centre of our life narratives. My grandfather had a way of saying “up” (it was more of a “heYEP!”) that every dog I ever saw him with completely understood. They knew it was coming too. They expected it. They did not try on anything stupid. They bided their time for the heyep. And when that heyep came, o so did they rejoice. My grandfather achieved lots of things in his life but this ability to communicate with animals - to seek them out and make himself known to them - was a very important mark of his character.
Sometimes, even if you are a tiny outlier in someone’s life, you can be a main character without knowing it. Once, when I was waiting to cross a road, deep in thought about the things I hadn’t done and the sleep I hadn’t had, and the lists I hadn’t written, an annoyed man in a suit rode his bike past me just a bit too close and fast, shooting back a look of fury and shouting something into the wind. I had no idea what he said but I hadn’t spoken to another adult all day. I stared after him. An older woman appeared next to me. “In a big hurry I think”, she said, nodding after him. “I expect his many friends can’t wait to see him”. She grinned at me, sideways and I laughed out loud. I think of her sometimes. Something like can really change how you’re holding up.
Public Service Announcement: life is bigger than you think. Look at the very edges of things. You might be surprised what you find.