I’m riding on a public bus in Oslo, Norway. A man walks on. He’s middle aged, dressed in warm clothes like everyone else. He’s balding and skinny, not abnormal looking but he seems uncomfortable. He sits down on the isle seat, next to a dark haired girl and by this time it’s obvious that something is different.
He’s moving. He is moving a lot. As he sits down in the bus seat out of a peripheral glance you can see a leg sprawling. His neck twists from one direction to the next. His facial expressions change from calmness to a mouth open wide, to squinched up distortion. As he sits his arms hold the seat tight as if it’s all he can do to restrain them from flopping wildly like a high school jock at a basketball game. He is not comfortable. Before we get off at the same stop I hear what seems to be a Norwegian apology coming from the man to the dark haired girl.
We walk off the bus and he walks awkwardly, one knee going off in one direction, the other trying hard to focus on the path. He walks away and I walk up the cold and frosty hill to an Art Museum outside the city.
I learned a lot from this man on the bus. It made me sit there and think about how hard we try to be comfortable. We are people groaning to find comfort daily.
As I pondered this and breath on the window, I believe deeper down as we have grown from childhood, at some point we become the uncomfortable man on the bus. Internally we are kicking and can’t keep our head still, we hold on and wonder why we have to and it’s frustrating. We do not want people to notice so we cover it up in a number of common ways.
What frees us from our uncomfort is the same thing that makes us feel it in the first place. People. I believe the ones that we care about most, and who know us the best free us from our uncontrollable flailing body’s. The people that we feel least threatened by will embrace our movement and we will not have to hide with them around. What beauty we find in people that know us, and accept us. Not having to hold onto the seat but to free ourselves from embarrassment.
I am thankful that this man stepped onto the bus this morning. I learned from him and I have no doubt that a quick conversation might have allowed his hands to let go of the seat.
