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Sunday Flow | 11/20 ☾*✲⋆

#yoga #sunday #sunday flow #mobility #wild thing #upward dog #downward dog #yoga community #vinyansa #gif #personal

.hype music.

#Sunday flow #hype music #return of the mack

[i couldn’t come up with a title]

I was on my way to work the other day, sitting in the subway and completely submerged in my thoughts. Some lady came and sat next to me, accidently shoving me in the process and making me lose my concentration. I briefly looked at her; she looked like she was somewhere in her late forties. She could have been younger though, and her youth could have been masked by her appearance because she didn’t look too good; something about her seemed off. She looked roughed up and tired–and a bit dazed. Nevertheless, she was determined to start a conversation with me, even though I don’t think you could call it a conversation. The noise of the train–coming from the car itself and the people inside the car–added to her indistinct speech made it hard for me to understand what she was saying. So she talked and I just stared at her, nodding from time to time without really listening to her. And the more she talked, the more that strange thing about her was showing; she had that confused look on her face, blinked very slowly, and took long breaks at the end of each sentence. I thought she was drunk or high on something. But she didn’t stop once. She kept talking.

Then, out of nowhere, she started to cry. I forced myself to listen to her from that moment, because I don’t like to see adults cry. Children shed tears for anything, but it’s different with adults. They usually have good reasons to cry and I can’t help but empathize. And from what I understood, this woman’s tears were legitimate. She told me she suffered from all types of discrimination for being a gay white woman. She told me her wife abused her verbally. She talked about her complicated mother, her siblings, and her friends, particularly one named Leeroy. She asked me if I knew Leeroy, and I think that’s when my thoughts of her being intoxicated were confirmed (because I had just met her and there was no way I knew her friend Leeroy). She talked about her wish to live in a world where everyone could be accepted. “Why can’t we all be treated the same?” she asked me. I didn’t know the answer to that. She kept talking and crying, and I felt sorry for her. I could see she had suffered, and this solely based on the shape she was in and on what she had told me, and I felt sorry. But I stayed quiet. I kept nodding while throwing phrases like “it’s okay” here and there to show I cared–and because I didn’t know what else to say. I wanted her to stop crying and to cheer up, I just didn’t know how I could make that happen.

My stop finally came and I had to go. I said goodbye to her and wished her a good day, and she did the same to me. “I really hope I see you again” she told me. I told her I did too and it made her smile. And when I tried to get people to move so I could get out of the car, she yelled “let the kid through!” and it made me smile.

I’m positive nothing I’ve said made her want to see me again. I barely said anything; so no, my words definitely didn’t cheer her up–my attention did. She was lonely, she had been through a lot, and she needed somebody to talk to. She had a story to tell; I just happened to be there to listen.

I hope she’s okay, wherever she is. I do hope I see her again.