Extraordinary People

I was not particularly impressed by the two men who chose seats at the end of my row in the movie theatre. They appeared to be about sixty years of age, and there was nothing extraordinary about their dress or demeanor. I gave a glance to my left as they sat down, and promptly forgot about them. The movie began, and we were all lost in the drama of another world. They would have passed out of my consciousness forever, if it wasn't for what happened after the film.

The two gentleman had added another to their party, and it was someone I knew well and called friend. They sat through the credits, and at that point I wondered if they were not "theatre folk," perhaps working for the Shakespeare Festival. I suspected this both because our mutual friend worked for the Festival, and because their willingness to sit through the credits showed a respect for the industry that is seldom show by outsiders.

Our paths crossed in the lobby after the film. My friend was generous in her introductions: "This is my friend Tricia, the gifted teacher. This is my friend, ____, and she's an incredible artist. You've seen her work around town. This is _____, and he's a phenomenal Director . . . and of course you know _______, the talented actor." We stood in a small circle, meeting each other through these sincere if superlative introductions (I give the short version here), and it was as if we were mythic beings, glad to meet each other, interested, evoked.

It was only later that I reflected on my first glimpse of the two "ordinary men at the end of the aisle." When my label dropped away, my attitude shifted. These were people whose ideas I was interested in, whom I was grateful to meet, not the anonymous movie-goers I'd shunted away with hardly a glance. And the crystal, the gift within this passing encounter was a deeper recognition that we are ALL extraordinary, when we take a moment to stop and notice, to go deeper. How had they labeled me, if they noticed me, when they first sat down in my row? And how did that shift after our brief introductions from a mutual friend?

My eyes were opened to two extraordinary souls, but more than that, my eyes were opened to the extraordinary souls who stand in front of us in check out lines at the grocery store, in queues at the post office, or in the car idling next to ours at the stoplight. May my eyes remain open. Extraordinary.