I spend a lot of time in my own head, wondering what I should be thinking about what people are thinking about what they think I’m thinking. I’m trying to change that, be more in the moment, address what’s in front of me.
You know, like everybody else.
Now that I commute by public transit, I spend a lot of time waiting. I’m trying to use that experience in a positive way.
Some days I take the MUNI subway/bus/trolley hybrid thing from the Caltrain station to the Financial District. When you’re on the platform, you can see the train at least a quarter of a mile away, and it has several traffic lights to negotiate before it arrives. It often takes awhile.
Many of my fellow travelers reflexively check the progress of the arriving train every few moments, craning their necks to make an exaggerated display of their impatience.
“This does not include those who pantomime looking down the track as a stratagem to jump the line. Folks, you’re not fooling anyone.”
I decided to try not to peer down the track, since it certainly doesn’t help. I just look wherever I feel like, and tell myself, “When the train stops in front of me, I’ll get on it.”
Sometimes it makes me feel less rushed, acknowledging there is no point in worrying about-or even paying attention to-something over which I have no control. But sometimes the effort of not looking feels more stressful than looking.
This point was brought home to me this morning as I was waiting on the platform at Millbrae, the origination of my morning train, for the doors of the empty car to open. I was at the front of a growing line.
“Don’t think about it,” I told myself. “The doors will open when they open and you will get on the train. You have no control over when that will happen, and the impatience of the others in line does not affect you.”
Then an app on my phone beeped and I nearly launched myself forward, like a coiled spring, into the closed doors.
Obviously I have yet to attain BART zen.
photo by me