Looking Up

Posted by Melissa Y. | February 21, 2012 | 10 Comments

I learned a lesson on Sunday. Actually, I learned a few, and some of them were even during church, but this one happened afterward. I was heading back into the church for choir practice, walking fast because I didn’t want to be late and also because it was cold. The glare on the glass door reflected the outdoor image, making it hard to see into the building. I pulled the door open before realizing that at the same time a man and woman were on their way out.

“Hi,” I said, brushing past. “Sorry.”

“Come right in,” the lady said, moving aside. A few seconds later her, voice registered as familiar and I turned my head, but they were already out the door. I continued down the hall, then turned and went back to see if I could see them. They were gone. I walked into the chapel slightly flustered.

“That’s so weird,” I said to my husband (who was already there for choir). “I just walked past a woman who sounded so much like Julie Beck.”

“It was Sis. Beck,” he said. “She was here visiting the other ward because a relative of hers was speaking.”

“Huh. Well, I just about plowed her over.”

And then I felt a little bad. Not necessarily because I didn’t recognize her (though I did feel bad about that), but because I was looking down. Because I didn’t take the time to see. And regardless of whether it was Julie Beck or anyone else, I probably should have at least looked the person in the eye while apologizing for plowing through.

I’ve realized lately that I spend a good deal of time charging through life with my head down. One of the things I noticed while attending a class recently was that many of the students had cute shoes on. Then it dawned on me that the only reason I’d noticed that was because I’d spent the day looking down. Moving forward. Forging ahead. I had seen a lot of shoes but only a few faces.

This is not always a bad thing, but I do think it might be a good idea for me to look up a little more. See the humanity in the faces of strangers. Be willing to see more than their shoes.

Even when I’m late for choir.

Comments

10 Responses to “Looking Up”

KDA
February 21st, 2012 @ 8:50 am

This is a good slice of life illustrating a common problem. My yoga teachers and tai chi teachers make the observation that westerners walk with their head down, leaning forward. They are too focused on the future in their pose and gait. Easterners (so these teachers observe) walk by leading with their hips–a more grounded pose and gait. In class, we do a lot of work to “be here now” by working first on the body which will then lead the mind. They teach me to situate more energy in my core, to stand straight with my chin up, to slow my breathing. This type of body work helps me to regard the moment and the joys therein.

I can’t say that I practice this kind of mindfulness of the moment 24/7 or even for a full hour right after class, but in those fleeting moments when I do, I always feel more connected to those around me, more free from worry about the future, and more open to the possibilities contained in the now. And I’m less likely to bump into people and things!
Cindy
February 21st, 2012 @ 9:47 am

I have to give a talk on Sunday about this same topic spoke on in conference. I fully don’t feel qualified as I am an observer of shoes as well. I am glad to hear this is more of a problem than just with myself. Thanks! I may include it in my talk!
Ana of the Nine Kids
February 21st, 2012 @ 1:04 pm

I think the idea of walking with your head down could be likened to something I’ve struggled with in my life–taking time away from what I am “supposed” to be doing so efficiently. I missed three opportunities when I was in college b/c of it. I had a class from James Christensen and he invited all of us to come up to his house (where his studio and a secret passage were). He made it available to us for two days so if we couldn’t come on one day, we could come the next. I never went b/c I felt like I had too much homework. Then (the same year) I had an opportunity to go talk to George Durrant about a problem I was having. It is a complicated story but I knew he was there for me and I chose not to go. The third missed opportunity came when the commissioner of education came to the small department on campus in which I was working. It wasn’t during my shift though so I didn’t bother to go back when he was going to be there. I didn’t think the commissioner of education was such a big deal so I didn’t worry too much about it except that his name was Henry B. Eyring, a few years before his call to become an apostle. Thankfully there are OTHER opportunities that I HAVE taken. But those three are all painful reminders to me of what I could have chosen but didn’t.
Handsfullmom
February 21st, 2012 @ 8:41 pm

Ana, your story reminds me of a story Sheri Dew tells about being too scared to try out for the basketball team at BYU. Years later, she talked to the coach, who told her that she remembered that particular year they were short a player with the talents Sheri Dew would have brought to the team.

My freshman year at BYU, I was too scared to try out for a good choir. My voice teacher in high school had great confidence in my singing (and she was a professor at BSU in Idaho, so she knew what she was doing), but after a negative experience with a choir director in high school, I had no confidence and so I didn’t even try. Now I wish I had.
Angie
February 21st, 2012 @ 10:00 pm

My take on this post is very different from the other commenters. When I am at church, my fellow saints rarely acknowledge me. They stare straight ahead. They often only say hello to people who have “big” callings.

Now, I am an extrovert, and I have had those “big” callings, so I definitely do my share of reaching out. But I have noticed that when I feel wounded or introverted or if I have a less visible calling, then I quickly become invisible.

This is wrong. In the end, it is irrelevant how cold it is or how late we are or how busy we are. We have covenanted to care for each other. It has been immeasurably painful for me to be ignored at the very place where I am supposed to be shepherded.
Angie
February 21st, 2012 @ 10:19 pm

It means so much when someone does look up, does notice me, does communicate that I matter. It’s obvious when someone does sincerely care, and it makes all the difference.
angie f
February 22nd, 2012 @ 1:27 am

One year, my parents’ ward leaders made a goal that everyone would learn and call each other by name in the halls of church, even and especially the children. A wonderful thing happened in their ward. A great sense of home was created. Children practically glowed when grown-ups called them by name. It’s sometimes difficult to remember names, especially in large wards, or with large families of many children, but even if we are shy, we can always smile and say hi.

I grew up in a family of five girls and I will always remember an elder who passed through our ward. To me he was the smartest man in the world (he could have been, he was working on his PhD in Mathematics at some prestigious university when he joined the church), because he met my family once and always correctly called me and each of my sisters by name ever after. He saw individuals and not just five Turner girls.

We just got a new stake president, who immediately set about learning the names and faces of all the youth in the stake. He shows up at seminary, calling all he meets by name. The youth stand straighter, they engage. He went to each ward and suggested strongly that we all share at minimum 15 handshakes and a hug each Sunday.

We cannot care for those whom we fail to see. Being seen is a powerful experience. Angie’s right, it really does make all the difference.
Grandma Honey
February 24th, 2012 @ 12:34 am

Great story.
I’ve noticed this about myself, too, lately.
I need to not only look up more, but stay in the moment, instead of rushing on to the next one.
FoxyJ
February 24th, 2012 @ 12:38 am

We recently had training at work that focused a lot on customer service. Looking up when people approach our desk, looking them in the face, and greeting them with a smile. I’ve been working on doing that more frequently and it does make a difference. I really like the reminder from Angie that a person doesn’t have to be outwardly important to deserve our attention.
Sage
February 24th, 2012 @ 6:51 am

I love my ward. We do know each others’ names. I’m afraid to move to Utah. Wish everyone learned to see each other in the present…and I want to be that way too. Thanks for the reminder.