Checking Out
To learn to make peace with these close quarters is likely a lifelong effort.
To learn to make peace with these close quarters is likely a lifelong effort.
I’ve been thinking about frustration a lot lately. I’ve been trying to find the beauty in it. Take this couple holding up the grocery checkout line, paying in cash and coin. I’m so close to the register, with only a couple of items. I’m thirsty—both for this sparkling water in my hand, and to be done with this simple errand, so I can move on with my day. The couple is in their seventies, maybe. They struggle to pick the coins they’ve splayed out off the counter and hand them to the clerk. They banter too much to each other and the cashier who is as aware as I am of the growing lind behind them. And yet, it is clear to me that this couple is oblivious to the stress and impatience they’ve imparted on their fellow shoppers. They’re moving blissfully though the world with love. Here I am, so accustomed to modern convenience. I tap my card or phone to pay and skedaddle, offering little more than an “I don’t need a bag,” and “Have a nice good one,” to the whole checkout interaction. The elderly couple stands arm in arm in the checkout aisle. They block the bagging area as they discuss where to go after exiting the store, paying in a manner of which they’ve been doing for decades I imagine. Interrogating my hurry and frustration here teaches me two things about beauty: 1) it is a blessing to travel at this speed – to accomplish so much in a day and have the drive and rush to move quickly through the world. And 2) Frustration is a symptom of togetherness. I know it sounds odd. I barely know these people, yet I am lucky enough to share this small aisle with them, to witness their happiness.
I barely know these people, yet I am lucky enough to share this small aisle with them, to witness their happiness.
The world is small at times.We can feel cramped by constant conversation: social media, strangers speaking loudly on the sidewalk. To learn to make peace with these close quarters is likely a lifelong effort. To appreciate the beauty of frustration is to find harmony in the constant humming of the world.