I was thinking, feeling, how hard it is for me to get to know people, and my conviction that others do not like me, so why try. Then there was Chris, the woman who owned the frame and matte shop downtown. She and I stood and talked for nearly two hours. She was animated and inspired like I used to be. Actually using the word “manic” for her behavior. It was refreshing to see someone else in this state of mind. I told her she was like how I used to be. But I was not inspired to buy a business myself, or get out there and meet people.
As I listened to her, as we discussed things on a spiritual level, much more advanced than most, and I was so comforted that there was another who understood the things that I did. I was tired, I didn’t add much, but when I did I found myself making a few mistakes I had hoped had left my dialogue. I mentioned God. I brought up my dark night and story of Michigan, and I spoke about myself in a way that could only come across as arrogant. She didn’t seem to mind, rather continuing the conversation on spirituality, not noticing at all, so I did not realize until afterword.
I vowed to work on that. Not to mention God, or my traumatic past, and not to talk about myself. I assumed that would be difficult. However, two days later I had the owner of the gallery, another gallery, come over to my house to bring a painting for me to try over the mantel. She exuded a small bit of arrogance when she walked in the door. It was not offensive. Maybe just overconfident. She complemented me on my house, more than once, and I did not elaborate. Not a mention of my two year remodel, which only drives the point home of how much money I have. She spoke about her past, the death of her husband recently. I briefly mentioned learning to sail on the Chesapeake, what the painting reminded me of, and didn’t go on about living aboard and sailing down the East Coast singlehandedly. It was like a secret that I knew and she did not. I actually enjoyed it. Perhaps like saving a piece of me for later, as this person slowly unraveled me, as she saw fit in asking her questions about my life, which were really nonexistent.
I found that even in her doing these things, I still would go out to coffee with her. They were not character flaws, rather simple things I noticed that made her human. It was refreshing to remember that people used to come to me for counsel. Me only keeping silent, listening, and pouring forth love, compassion, and understanding. These two women were me, in a certain way, one talking about her manic behavior, the other mentioning her dog that she rescued off the side of the road. How very interesting that.