Reflecting on effortless human unity
In our self-created age of constant tumult, I am drawn to liminal spaces like a moth to a flame — my favorite being airports. If not only for the seemingly expansive opportunities to procrastinate, shifting responsibilities until touched down at final destination, offering instead a chance to exist “guilt free,” but for the knowledge that all other individuals are doing the exact same thing. While all of humanity may be rocketing on different trajectories, when offered the opportunity by a bubbly intercom voice to “sit back and relax” we are all so inclined to obey. Perhaps we’ve been collectively waiting for the instruction.
Accepting my post in a deceptively squishy chair in Dane County’s seventh terminal, I was given the opportunity to appreciate this collective “we.” Here’s what I saw:
A woman in her late sixties, carefully washing her hands while staring forward at her reflection. When complimented on her pale purple vest covered in pastel sketches of root vegetables, her mirrored expression glowed back at me.
A girl in her early twenties with knee-high brown leather boots and matching suede purse. Even, clacking, confident, steps on the linoleum floor.
A man in his early thirties, dragging a precariously piled trolley of beverages, dressed in a camo vest and tough soled boots (for reasons unclear to me).
A couple in their late sixties with rich smile lines and comforting eyes, instruct a girl in her early 20s on how to use the water fountain. “We were confused ourselves.”
A woman in her early fifties stands parallel to the rows of sitters, leaning against her chair with her right ankle tucked behind her leg. She’s reading James Patterson, leaning forward as her eyes cross back and forth, her other hand covered in silver rings.
A man in his early twenties leans forward balancing a notebook and a computer on his knee, flipping through the pages. Good luck on the final buddy.
A woman, late thirties, long braids pulled back away from her face, smiles as she takes my coffee order. Rehearsed rhythm, muscle memory, her voice is full of effortless intention when she tells me, “Have a great flight, baby.”
Despite efforts to divide us, regardless of distance created by man or crafted by the sectors of our earth, humanity is explicitly a “we.” You can’t escape it. You can put your headphones on, pull up your computer, dive into a book, or lock your eyes forward, but your humanness is inexplicable. Don’t forget to look up.