Millennium Mindfulness

 Millennium Mindfulness

First thing I notice on entry are the signs everywhere instructing people on what do to and where to go, and no one pays any notice. Question marks hang in the fetid air of the station, ‘where does the train leave from and what station do I need to get off at? Is there a map somewhere?’ There are maps everywhere by the way but pointing it out is not my job. I don’t work here, I don’t even live in the city but I’ve been here enough to know, you have to look up.

In this city, well hell in any city now there’s little communication with people standing right next to you. Eyes and sometimes ears are fixated on the rectangular device in hand. It tells you the time, the weather and sends you messages from people half way around the world. Why would you discuss the war in Ukraine with the woman in the next seat when you can get videos of the Kardashians in the palm of your hand? Why would a seated young, strong guy notice that there’s a tired older man just off night shift and swaying on his feet? Maybe the assumption is that he’s a homeless dude and one wouldn’t want to interact with a malodorous fellow, what if he flipped out? Then the younger fellow would have to deal. Take note of the senior though and you’d see that he’s holding a lunch kit and sports an I.D. badge on a lanyard. Not too many homeless people have those do they?

I mistakenly take a deep Pilates breath, since my class last week I’ve found it helps ground me, and is teaching me how to be mindful, day to day. I don’t normally get stressed; ‘stoic’ and ‘steady’ are going on my tombstone. Note to self, taking a deep breath on a train, no matter how calming it may be, is not to be repeated. Hanging on to a pole with my right hand I shift my feet for solid grounding as the train takes off from the station. Years of taking a ferry has instilled this automatic reaction to movement. I’ve never been athletic but I’m compact and that has served me well. Standing up on a train definitely gives one a unique perspective. You can scan all the ads and maps above, cast your eyes toward the other end of the car and take note of each individual without it being apparent. Sitting down your view is impeded by coats, bags and laptop cases worn or held by those standing near sliding doors.

Trains and buses are great for people watching aren’t they? I don’t even mind being one of those people being watched. I’ve come to accept myself and while there are things about me that could change with a bit of self-discipline, it’ll happen when I’m ready. I’m a bit heavy, okay more than a bit. (Self-delusion is one of those things by the way). I’m also friendly and funny. My mother could talk to anyone on a train and know everything about them by the time she got to her destination. How many children, years married, level of education, that sort of thing. My father had a sharp wit, was great with words. I like to think I’m a blend of the two of them. That’s my self-awareness talking there, did you catch it?

My ears pick up the automated voice announcing the next stop, mine is still about three away and then I have to switch. I asked for and received this information from a young woman across the aisle. I had just smiled and asked her for help. I get that some people are afraid of asking for directions because of their pride. Is your pride going to get you where you’re going though? I learned from a professor at 18 years old that if you don’t ask, you’ll never know. It stuck with me and though I often do my own research first, I don’t have a problem with accessing the ‘kindness of strangers’ when necessary.

Watching a young Chinese man unwrap a breakfast sandwich makes my stomach rumble. I’m hoping that no one can hear it, especially the woman sitting next to my pole. Her ears are about abdomen level as it is, poor thing. On the drive down the peninsula I had a bag of salted and roasted almonds open, tucked into the center console of the car. My right hand digging in for a few at red lights or stalled in a construction zone, so being safe anyway. My heart probably hated me consuming all that salt by the time I got to the Langdale ferry terminal. So now, seeing a bacon and egg sandwich being consumed, my stomach chastised me, ‘you should have had something on the ferry.’

I appreciate the concept of mindful eating, and practice it, mostly. I admit though there have been times where I’ve barely tasted the chicken wings while watching a game, or I rush through the salad to get to the burger, as one does. The very fact that I order a salad with the burger and not fries should be a pat on the back by the way. Oh, he’s done now, has balled up the napkin and thrust it into a pocket. It seems that everyone on that car of the Millennium Line train exhaled. Apparently I wasn’t the only one experiencing breakfast regret.

Streams of humanity exiting and entering occurred twice more before the train pulled into the stop I needed. Repositioning my backpack, I moved forward and stepped down on to the concrete platform. Eyes taking in the dark tunnel, schedule board and large, backlit signs. I speculated how much the ad space cost and whether the companies get a better deal for being sub-terranean. Strange thought maybe, but these things occur to me. I feel the ground shake and look up, noting the time on the board has changed from one minute to ‘in station’.

The next portion of the trip is a mere three stops to where I’ll meet my sister. I smile at the joy of seeing her again, it’s been too long. Our mother and brother both died three years ago of cancer, so with dad being gone over seven years, Alexis and the Langley group are my only biological ‘family’.

The King George station has been announced, so once again I hold on, preparing myself for the push forward. Once I’ve passed through the gates, I send another text, a simple ‘I’m here’ and find a place to wait and just be.