Strangers

I just watched New York, I Love You, which, to me, is every bit as beautiful as its predecessor, Paris, Je T'aime. It is a film with a different story for each scene, except this time there were interludes showing the connections between different characters. It is a movie about the interconnectedness of our lives, even in a city as large as New York City.

It made me think: How much of my life is an interlude?

What parts of my life exist as the waiting rooms for the major chapters in my life thus far? Where is there a beautiful lull, a chance to set up the next meetings and interactions? Where do I connect with others whom I don't know, but could know? Where do our stories intercede and branch off into two, or more, separate lives, adventures, or even tragedies?

One thing The Velvet Rage mentioned was that we shouldn't let our sexual appetites dictate whom we choose to talk to or associate with? If we are only talking and making (futile) connections with those whom we are attracted to, we miss out on so much. I could miss my next closest friend or most bitter enemie. A lover or a hater. Despite what poles the people we could meet occupy, our interactions with them are no less beautiful. As Kahlil Gibran says in "On Pain:"

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.

I think that can apply to people as well. If we can "keep [our] hearts in wonder," those who dislike us, or whom we dislike, may not be any less wondrous than the people we love, for they help define our lives just as those who love us do.

So, I want to meet a stranger. Maybe to love, maybe just to talk. I want to feel the beauty of life's intersections, of the avenues through which we meet people who impact our lives in a variety of ways.