The young lady sitting next to me was wholly interesting. Youth. Youth has a great optimism otherwise forgotten over time. Really, the conversation was nothing. We discussed the virtues of crock-pots and having friends over for dinner, for no damn reason. We got onto the subject of work. She's in training to be a psychiatrist. She's working while she works on her masters (as everyone is here in this town). I don't know what possessed me to tell her something I truly believe. People want two things - to be recognized; to know they've been seen, acknowledgement if you will and they want to be heard: listen, just hear them out, listen to the whole story without interruption or judgement. I get a lot of thank you's at work for just letting these people tell me their troubles. I can't do much about it. But, I let them talk. And I listen. Esther had not heard it put this way before. Is she that young? Maybe. I could see she was putting the ideas into her head for future use - whatever that may be.
Between you and I, at home, I appreciate those times of comfortable silence among the people I love. Then I know all is well. I wonder if I gauge life's contentment in those moments of silence. If one is compelled to be silent does that mean one is content? Maybe that's what I seek. Is this too Zen? It is pleasant, regardless.