On my way to the shrink
yesterday, a man in a spiffy suit and sunglasses fell on the bus. It was one of
the epic, spectacular face plants that made everyone gasp and express concern. He
quickly snatched his belongings and pretended absolutely nothing had happened.
No eye contact, no self-deprecating laugh, no acknowledgement that he had quite
obviously hurt himself. I saw his face turn the color of eggplant before he
limped off the bus.
Having had my own spill that
morning, I identified with his supreme embarrassment and perceived loss of
dignity. Isn’t it interesting, I later told my shrink, how we assume that our
audience is a single, scoffing mob, instead of a collection of people who have,
at one time or another, felt exactly the same way? How embarrassment and
self-consciousness alienate us, deprive us of connecting with people and
accepting their kindness?
"Yes," said my shrink. "Perhaps
this is part of the lightheartedness you strive for – the ability to fall
flat and accept it with grace. And to recognize that people have compassion for
you as you have compassion for them."
"Right! It’s like last night,
when I was watching Rocky III and he’s about to fight Mr. T. who’s frothing at
the mouth and acting like a vicious animal, and Rocky’s really scared, but
Apollo Creed is like, ‘HE’S JUST A MAN! HE’S JUST A MAN!’ because, yeah, he’s
just a man who wants exactly the same thing that Rocky wants, which is the
heavyweight title, which Rocky TOTALLY WINS because he’s so awesome and has such
spirit and it’s the whole triumph over tragedy thing that totally gets me
pumped.”
Awkward silence.
“God, I love that movie.”
