Have you ever wanted to give someone a genuine compliment; perhaps a stranger on the street or on a train about something they were wearing or something kind you observed them doing, but have stopped yourself for whatever reason and then the moment had passed?
In contrast, have you ever felt quietly delighted when a stranger gives you a spontaneous compliment? Have you noticed that the sense of delight often lasts longer than the few seconds it took for the stranger to give it? Have you noticed it sparks an internal curiosity about the other person you would not normally have noticed?
That’s exactly what happened to me recently, however before I say what the compliment was, let me put it in context.
I was on the bottom level of a crowded double-decker train going from Sydney airport to the city. I was juggling luggage and dodging people looking for a seat. Luckily, I managed to slump down into one of the few seats available with my cases jammed in front of me.
That was the good news. The bad news, as I thought at the time, as I could not get to my mobile phone. I was jammed in so tightly, Houdini himself would not have been able to get extract my precious device! Like most of the other commuters I wanted to escape into my own technology bubble but it wasn’t going to happen.
Having no other distraction meant my attention, was quickly drawn elsewhere. A trendy young Asian woman, sitting next to me was playing a computer game on her phone. Her fingers were flying across the screen so fast I was mesmerised. I was so impressed with her hand-eye coordination I found it difficult to look away, so I didn’t, but I did follow the unspoken rules not to engage or invade anyone’s space…so my head was facing forward while my eyes continued to observe her amazing agility.
With my eyes working hard to see around corners I noticed other things, more than usual.
There was another woman in my peripheral vision; she was sitting beside the woman with the magic fingers. She was leaning against the window, reading a book, wearing a long dark dress and a headscarf. It had been a long time since I read a paper book and wondered what she was reading.
Without intention but with equal fascination I started eavesdropping on a conversation another woman was having across the aisle from me. Even though the conversation was in hushed tones it was clearly romantic and quite tantalising. I thought how wonderful it would be to be young again. I slowly moved my gaze in her direction to see a conservatively dressed middle-aged women. I smiled to myself about my sorry assumption.
I was stirred from my musings when the train started to slow down and there was the normal flurry of activity. The woman with the magic fingers was getting ready to move. No words were passed, we all knew what to do.
I bundled up my luggage — to make exits easier and to get more room —and moved further down the train to find another seat. It was easier that way. While I was manoeuvring myself, the woman I observed sitting by the window in the long dress and head scarf said: “I just love your dress” and smiled at me as she glided past to get off the train.
I was stunned and delighted. I appreciated the compliment — it did make me feel special. However, what stunned me more was how surprised I was by my reaction. I was surprised the compliment came from a woman, who I presumed by her dress, would not be interested in what others were wearing.
Sitting down in my new seat I did not automatically reach for my mobile phone, which I would have done now that more space was available. Instead, delight, curiosity and shame slapped me in the face altogether and at once. I was delighted by the compliment, curious about the woman who gave it to me and shamed by the many assumptions I made in those few short minutes.
At that moment I realised, even if I wanted to deny it I was constantly seeking to live my life in a bubble, fixated with technology, or to fill up every moment instead of observing the world around me. How quickly I’d learnt the new rules of disconnecting. The comfortable bubble I created stopped me from connecting with other real-life humans and ensured any assumptions realised or not, were closely protected.
As I sat on that train I wondered if, by giving one genuine compliment to another human being each day, each week, or whenever we thought, it would help us reconnect and challenge our assumptions about each other. It certainly helped me at that moment.
Who knows, but it is an idea of sharing and something I am doing more often.
