At the bustling coffee shop, I flirt with an Austin tourist visiting from Vermont.
We sit next to each other, but I noticed him when he first stepped in, and so I secretly squeal when the seat beside me opens and he settles in. The conversation catches when he asks me for the WiFi. And it’s an easy flow of a conversation – playful, balanced, curious, respectful.
My computer dies and there’s no outlet nearby, so I take it as a cue to go and give my number as I do. It’s an impromptu act on my part, a free-sharing of my number is something I rarely do, but it’s the beginning of 2020 and I decide that for the start of the new year, I’ll practice and strengthen following the lead of my instincts and feeling. And presenting the Vermont gentleman my number in that moment aligns with a sincere heart-openness I’m cultivating.
There’s also a noticeable and dearly welcomed presence of spaciousness and peaceful nonattachment, a “let’s just see where this leads and whatever happens, this meeting and conversation was enough of a spirit booster for me.”
We banter. I suggest coffee shops to try, rave that the downtown library is a must-see (and my loves, the downtown Austin library is where I envision one day holding a birthday party…), and he volleys back replies that share the happenings of his day and he even includes a dashing photo of a good-looking dog he spotted while strolling around the east side (“How does he know that I looove dogs?! It might be coffee shop destiny!).
All of this flows. And I keep showing up with no expectations, just realness, and ease, a simple and significant lesson on how to just be with men whom I vibe with romantically.
We toss out plans to meet up, and they never materialize. One night in particular, I wait on a text from Mr. Vermont, and find myself yearning to actually stay in, and curl up on my couch and dine on chips and dip and slip off into my new fascination of “Star Wars.”
I ask myself if I’m afraid, and the answer is no; the time with the Vermont coffee crush was exactly as it needed to be. So I nestle in and eat my chips and soar into a galaxy far, far away, but come back to earth after the movie has ended to do what I notoriously do after every movie and show that I ravishingly adore: I GOOGLE. I dish up facts, critiques, fan-fiction. Time evaporates as I dive deep into the internet universe of “Star Wars.”
In the internet exploring, lounging in pjs, contemplating eating an orange, I stumble upon an interview with Adam Driver on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.
And this interview changes my 2020.
When asked if he enjoys playing villains (in the new Star Wars trilogy, Adam Driver stars the antagonist, Kylo Ren), his response elevates my understanding of humanity:
“I don’t think of them as evil. I think of them as someone who thinks they’re right as supposed to someone who thinks they’re evil. ... They think what they are doing is morally justified. So there is no end to pushing forward their agenda.”
Unpredictable and scary people, he continues, are incapable of hearing the other side. They think they are right.
I only listen to the interview once and yet his words beam like a lighthouse through 2020. Adam Driver’s illuminating insight sparks a radical shift in my mind, in a heart that immediately recognizes and resonates with this truth.
Whenever I find myself baffled, infuriated, completely at a lost to understand someone’s behavior, I receive a flashback to the interview and apply this discerning and compassionate view on my fellow human travelers.
They think they’re right.
This reminder is a Jedi-mind-trick that helps me stay in my power, and my power exudes from remaining embodied, present, and centered in my humanity and seeing the humanity in all human beings.
And how many times has that been me? How many times do I think I am right, my subjective perspective is the only right reading on a situation, on a person?
When I get stuck in self-righteous, I am acting out of fear, of wanting to control, of wanting to be right.
I’ve been cautioned many times this year to be careful of what we resist and fight so passionately against, because through the external constant condemnation without internal examination and purposeful focus on solutions, we can dangerously become the thing we so actively despise. This is a delicate dance – to witness and honor the hurt and through the acknowledging, alchemize the pain into energy to fuel the answer, the remedy.
The answer is the path that keeps me in my humanity, keeps my heart open and keeps me courageously soft and softly courageous. And this is a celebration. To remain present to the tides of the world, to the tides of people, and fiercely centered through all the waves.
Stephen Colbert would respond to Adam Driver by wisely adding that the humility to question motives, perspectives, our take on the story is what makes for true heroes.
2020 has indeed been a year of questioning, of leaning into the fact that life is characterized by change and uncertainty.
Little did I know that my Vermont cutie may have been my last chance of an in-person date, that playful flirting at coffee shops and even sitting closely to feel a flicker of attraction could fade into distant memories.
Little did I know that 2020 wouldn’t necessarily be the year of putting myself out there with guys romantically, but more a pivot inward to reckon and root with my own understanding of self and living in the collective of humanity.
Little did I know that the Adam Driver interview on the night of a could-have-been date would steer me forward and through 2020 with greater grace and that Kylo Ren would help me cultivate the quiet to honestly question and gently review my own thoughts and actions.
In the February of 2020 I didn’t know what was to come, and the same can be said of tonight and what 2021 will bring near. But I do know for certain that I’ll be carrying Adam Driver’s sage counsel forward, to keep choosing the Jedi path centered and liberated in heart-expansiveness, to keep me alive and kind in my humanness and see this in others, and also, that boys from Vermont are cute.