In 2016, as part of my artistic practice, I tried to document my attempts at talking to strangers and finding community in Vancouver. This is the second in a series of six writings. (Names have been changed to protect people’s privacy.) The beginning of the series is here.
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Thursday, May 26, 2016
Repetition is key.
Today after my walk with Carrie, I did not feel like going back to the apartment and being alone. Grey weather weighs on me heavily. Instead of giving in to the loneliness that was settling in, I decided I would stay out in the world longer.
First, we went back home and I got some money, a mug, muffins, and treats for Carrie. Then, we headed to Starbucks, got a coffee, and I settled us at one of the outside tables. Across the street I saw Thomas at a table inside Continental Coffee, his head buried in a newspaper as usual. Thomas is lonely. He lives in an RV parked by one of the little parks nearby—Mosaic Creek Park. He does not seem open to the world. He needs to be in it or part of it to feel less lonely, but to me it seems he does not know how to be in it. I suspect that his encounters tend to be uncomfortable—for the other party—as mine have been with him. In his eyes, I gave him the rub-off several weeks ago, but in reality I was just in a hurry grabbing a coffee ‘to go’ because Lenny and Carrie were in the truck parked illegally—I had no time to talk.
Yesterday, when I walked by Continental and saw him, I looked at him to greet him but he would not meet my eyes. Perhaps, he did not see me. But then when he was leaving, and I was sitting outside with an acquaintance whom I had asked for coffee for the first time (and who had asked if I had a reason for asking her out—see my previous entry), he completely ignored me. I have become invisible to him.
Today, it was confirmed that yes, indeed, he is holding a grudge against me. As I was walking by Continental, he lifted his eyes just enough to look at Carrie—he knows very well who she is—but would not raise them up high enough to meet mine. I did a quick hello with my hand, which was promptly greeted by…no one.
In any case, my good news today is that after sitting at Starbucks for numerous occasions since April, I finally had a spontaneous encounter. My table was next to two older guys—not Polish (see previous post). As I was sitting there, a dirty woman with horrible teeth and with obvious mental health issues was shouting accusations and threats of killing “you.” One of the guys responded in a lighthearted way. She said she was talking to the one at the end. I was sitting at the last table of the row, so I asked one of the guys, “is she referring to me?” A little conversation ensued. This woman has appeared here, outside Starbucks in the last couple of weeks.
Then while one of the guys was talking to his friend, I heard talk about his days in Halifax. So, a little after, I said “I heard you mention Halifax. Are you from back east?” And that was a good second opener. He told me about his work there as a coast guard and then asked if I was from there. I said no, my partner is, he’s from Cape Breton. And that was enough for us to have something to talk about. The conversation felt unstrained, spontaneous, and the two men did not seem to mind my intrusion. When I left, I said my goodbyes, and they said “nice chatting with you.”
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Back to the present. It’s May 2022:
A little goes a long way. To get out of our heads sometimes it really helps to talk to strangers. I know it helped me on that day in May back in 2016. We know it, everyone must know this, but we don’t always act on it, or we hardly do, because we’re used to not talking to strangers. But…
“A hefty body of research over the years has found that the single best predictor of happiness and well-being is the quality of a person’s social relationships.”
“the single best predictor”!! You’ll find that in chapter two in The Power of Strangers by Joe Keohane.
What about relationships with strangers specifically? The word ‘stranger’ itself is so very vague. A barista can be a stranger even if you see them on a regular basis. A dog walker can forever remain a stranger even if you see them almost every day on your dog walks and you say ‘hi.’ A stranger on a bus that you see everyday as you catch the 99 to UBC. The cashier at the check out. The librarian, as you start visiting the library each Friday to write this—since you gave up your studio. Each stranger offers a wealth of opportunities. Sometimes I am struck at how a person changes completely when you start talking to them. They smile. They share something about themselves. Suddenly they become more human.
Two Canadian psychology researchers, Gillian Sandstrom and Elizabeth Dunn, conducted a study with sixty adults, thirty were directed to interact with the baristas, and the other half were told to be efficient in their transaction. Those who tried to connect with the baristas “reported feeling a stronger sense of belonging and an improved mood, as well as greater satisfaction with their overall experience.”
But why is it so hard to talk to strangers?
Because we carry baggage in our head.
The “fears inventory,” a phrase and a list by Sandstrom, reveals what we think, feel, and are worried about when it comes to strangers. We think:
other people aren’t interested in talking to me
I don’t have permission to do it
I might be rejected
it might not be enjoyable
how will I end the conversation if I’m bored
I don’t want to reveal too much1
What are you afraid of? What stops you?
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~ Thanks for reading, see you again in two weeks with another piece from this series, Laura.
The bit about the two psychologist and the “fears inventory” is also from Joe Keohane’s book The Power of Strangers.