A Face in the Crowd

It was recently pointed out to me that while I am the protagonist in my own story, I also play various roles in the stories of others: a supporting role with Ter, a lesser yet still supporting role with family and the workplace, the occasional walk-on in someone else’s story, and an extra in the crowd scenes.

One day I was waiting for Ter in the mall. We had agreed to meet near Starbucks after our shopping was done, so I found a spot at a counter overlooking the food court and proceeded to consider my options. Should I plug into my phone? Think about a snack? Ponder what sort of novel to get at the bookstore? Hmmmm … As I was thinking, my gaze wandered aimlessly over the scene before me and something weird occurred: a face jumped out at me.

Not a familiar face. Not a face I knew. Not an extraordinary face. Just a face, the face of a random stranger in a communal space. And as I contemplated this unknown face, other faces started popping into focus. The guy wolfing a Teen Burger by himself. The salesclerk on a break with her iPhone in hand. The elderly couple splitting a doughnut with their coffees. The gaggle of similarly clad teens trying not to stand out while preserving their individuality. The little boy trailing after his parents and older sister, looking somewhat bewildered by the hectic bustle of everyone around him.

I love to write crowd scenes and here I was, observing one. Yet I was acutely aware that within the current moment a hundred separate dramas were being enacted, each one weightier and relevant to its central character, who, like me, also happened to be a bit player in the bigger picture. And each person was powered by the same divine spark that powers me, everyone on a separate path that, by necessity, will crisscross others as it proceeds.

It was like an out-of-body experience, sitting on the sidelines yet sensing the combined energy of all those strangers. In fact, I was contributing to that combined energy through my connection to the rest of the cast! I had no idea who any of them were, but I sensed the thread that linked us. It was at once bizarre and cool—and a little disarming. I was quite relieved when Ter appeared in the tableau. Her familiarity gave me a comforting focus that shrank my expansive musing to something more manageable. All those individual faces melted back into anonymity and I became the lead in my own story once more.

The feeling has stayed with me, though I admit I rarely pay conscious attention to people on the street. But sometimes, when I least expect it, on the bus or in a lineup or even on a street corner, waiting for the light to change, I’ll meet a stranger’s eyes and feel the snap! of our shared divinity. Yup, it’s disconcerting—but it’s also a reminder that we are all connected, one and the same, no matter where our stories take us.