Mary Oliver’s instructions for a life in the poem Sometimes:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
It’s a complicated boarding system.
There are zones that seem to be assigned without
the actual layout of the airplane in mind
such that passengers in aisle & middle seats are often settled in,
snoozing and ready for take off
when the passengers with window seats arrive
There’s the shuffling of people in and out of the narrow spaces
and the constant reminder to step aside once we’ve located our
seats,
to allow others to do the same.
Boarding an airplane shouldn’t be this difficult
We’re all buckled in and the flight attendant is briefing the
passengers in the exit row when she notices something
her eyes grow wide, then narrow—her lips disappear into a
thin line.
What ever she notices is against standard regulation.
She leans over to the passenger in seat 15 A and says:
Sir, you cannot have your feet on your bag like that
It needs to go in the overhead compartment or be checked.
He—the passenger—looks up at her.
His face is worn…on it is something like defiance.
He tells her in heavily accented English that
he is not able to lift the bag.
He tells her that it is too heavy to lift above his head.
He tells her that if she wants the bag in the overhead compartment
then, she should lift it up there herself.
Now, she is angry.
Now he is upset…
And their exchange is heated.
Eventually, another crew member retrieves the bag
they read his boarding pass and the bag is
checked.
Disappeared into the belly of the airplane
We—those of us paying attention—all notice that there
is room in the overhead compartment.
It’s a small bag…it could have been snuggled in between the
laptop case, the coat and the dark blue backpack.
We take off, leaving Durham behind
to land in Charlotte 30 minutes later
I watch him, this passenger, as he deplanes:
He walks with a limp.
I follow him off the airplane
this older brown skinned man
I watch him read his boarding pass and then the signs for
baggage claim
for terminals C, D, and E.
I watch as he looks at his boarding pass and then back at the signs.
He searches the faces of the people bustling to and from
the Gate
He reminds me of my own aging father who hates to fly.
I walk up to him—no longer certain that it was defiance on his face
I walk up to him and the closer I get, the more I understand
that he is afraid.
“Your luggage,” I say “Where is your final destination?”
He tells me Ohio.
“They checked your luggage to your final destination,
to Ohio,” I tell him
“When you get to Ohio, please ask the crew for assistance
locating your baggage claim.”
His face opens wide and his eyes tear up.
He is smiling and thanking.
So often we make assumptions.
I thought I knew what happened on that flight
defiance and anger—two beings clashing over something
important yes, but something that could have been navigated with
less assumptions
more patience, more listening, more human connection.
More seeing each other in a moment of tension.
This takes practice.
It takes slowing down and being willing to enter into
someone else’s frame of reference
which means being willing to release our assumptions
release what we think we know…
and preparing ourselves to be surprised, to be astonished.
It is a practice in vulnerability –
which, like the boarding process, shouldn’t be difficult
and yet, being vulnerable often is.
In his Lenten reflection, George Mason writes:
“A red oak tree I once transplanted failed to make
the transition. It didn’t join the rest of nature
in its springing forth of budding and blossoming.
Disappointed by its death, I chopped it off at the ground level,
too lazy to dig it up at its roots.
“The next spring it was back with a vengeance.
It had needed pruning, not abandoning.
It had needed to lose the weight of old growth it could no longer sustain.
Today, it stands tall and full.
“Astonishing.”
And so it is with us, sometimes.
To stay engaged, to meet others with compassion
to shed our assumptions
to live from the depths of our souls
we, too, need to prune
to cultivate our thoughts
to let go of what we think we know about ourselves and others
in order to gather new experiences
in order to be surprised
in order to be astonished.
This is part of our becoming more fully human
part of our unfurling and cultivating an inner light
that tells of our unshakable beauty.
In that moment of tension on the airplane between
flight attendant and passenger
he needed pruning, not abandoning.
Perhaps they both did…a moment of deep breathing to remember
all the ways they were tied together as humans
vulnerable and inherently worthwhile.
Maybe then they could have heard each other into being.
Do this for today…and maybe for tomorrow:
As you move about in the world…notice
your assumptions…notice where you need to pause and breathe deeply.
Notice where you need to
pay attention
But more than that: ask someone –
“What have you seen or noticed today that astonished you?”
And then, open your heart and listen.
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Quest for Meaning is a program of the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF).
As a Unitarian Universalist congregation with no geographical boundary, the CLF creates global spiritual community, rooted in profound love, which cultivates wonder, imagination, and the courage to act.