It was such an organic encounter; the way he complimented me on my dress and introduced himself. He had a sincere approach that kept any inner walls of defense at ease. As he continued by being vocal about how attractive he thought I was, I did not get the feeling that this well-dressed man before me whose extra splashes of cologne was tickling my sinuses had identified me as his evening prey. This seemed natural and unforced. As if at some other point in time we had met and this evening’s conversation was to some degree between old friends.
Here we were. Two strangers on the platform at Grand Central Station who in the middle of an intersection in life, night had us engaging in conversations seldom had as strangers. He guessed I was new to the city based on what he called my “sweet innocence” and he shared that he had just returned home. His eyes somehow told me that the return was from a place further away than it sounded on the surface and his words that then followed explained how he ended up in prison for 15 years and spent the last year and a bit readjusting to the life we refer to as “normal”. The train came and went and we continued on the platform. Looking back I am not sure if he had my full attention because of how transparent he had become with this complete stranger, or because of the lessons the moment was teaching.
“What was that like?” I asked. “Walking out for the first time from behind bars after 15 years?” I was so curious on what the first whiff of freedom must have felt like. As we turned the pages on life in his cell, his greatest lessons learned, and how much had changed while he was gone he could not find the words to fully articulate how he felt about being free, but the expression in his eyes said it all. How paradoxical I silently thought and began to say out loud. Though he was physically restricted behind bars and society for the most part perceived as free, our lives may actually run parallel.
Jails and prison walls may not be visible in our lives, but do we really live freely or are we imprisoned beneath the mask of the perfect image? The scars and struggles we hide that fuel our fears to believe “I am less than…Not good enough…disqualified based on past errs”, or simply the choice we make to not be vulnerable in life because fear of the unknown has a tight grip on our thoughts. We convince ourselves which parts of the story that we have written will best be kept a secret and which parts are okay to be on display. In those moments our authentic self becomes muted and the façade of how we want to be perceived pressures us to keep the act intact.
The flow of the conversation traveled down personal moments he tried to understand and the dots he could not connect. To marry someone while in prison he believed was to walk through one of his most difficult moments in life with someone who knew and understood his story. To then be free presented a new challenge as she only knew him in that chapter of his book and therefore threatened to stifle the growth of who he had now become. At the intersection of past and present, “‘Till death do us part” then becomes the inevitable death of a partnership committed to grow old together because two were growing neither separately or collectively. There was silence for a moment, where the only thing I could hear was the nearing of the train on the track. The light coming from the tunnel causing the tears now rolling down his cheeks to glisten. I was quiet. Listening to him repeatedly whisper how sorry he was; for all the people he had hurt over the years and how different he wished things had been in his past. The apologies flowed just as the tears did and I thought them present for both the speaker and the listener who had somehow become set free together.
Here we were. Two strangers heading in different directions yet the same journey of life. In his perceived moment of weakness he revealed to me the enormous courage it takes to stand boldly in the perfectly flawed mess of his life and tell someone quite simply: This. Is. Me. with no fear of what they may think or judgement they may walk away with regarding his personal worsts. He crippled my speech with the reminder of what happens when we strip away our egos, fears and insecurities. All that then remained was two human beings experiencing an intimate connection – not in the sexual manner in which we often limit intimacy. Rather in the rich exchange that happens when trust allows us to step forward, remove all barriers and say ” this is really who I am”. Isn’t that what we all knowingly or unknowingly crave? To take that vulnerable dance with life, strip away the layers of who others think we are and bare the uncovered truth of all that we really are. Both the beautiful and the ugly moments allowed to be shared, rather than mastering the art of pretending. Somewhere between being vulnerable and being accepted, fear stops us in our tracks: What if I tell you my darkest moments or show you my scars from my past, will I still be accepted? But it’s not in the waiting for a nod of approval from another that determines if or when we should walk in the truth of our real selves, for that approval may never come. The choice to take that walk is one of self-acceptance and a nod from within that says as “Yes I am perfectly flawed, yet still accept my whole”. We then resist the urge to step back in an attempt to not ruffle the waters of life as usual. Time has shown us ever so often that whoever walks away, will eventually do so with or without the big reveal. The courage it takes to share who you really are with each soul you meet creates a ripple effect that not only sets you free, but sends a message to life: let’s dance, and time has been waiting for you to release the control and allow it to lead.