She Did the Same
Collision 00004
On a sunny Saturday afternoon in November, the historic, narrow streets of Kyoto’s Higashiyama district were flooded with tourists. But the abundance of craft, culture and spiritual significance there made battling the crowds worth every minute.
Nestled in amongst the congestion, a plain storefront caught my attention. It looked like it was closed from the street. I took a chance and pushed the door open.
I immediately sensed the specialness of where I was. Nothing about the curated assortment, merchandising or shopkeeper screamed mass-produced or tourist trap. The lights were low. The store was still, tidy and full of one-of-a-kind artisan pieces – matcha bowls, tea sets and sake carafes.
I took my time browsing the store. Each time I circled back around to the corner of the boutique where the shopkeeper sat, I slowed and watched with interest as she folded tiny paper cranes.
She did not speak English but did her best to point and gesture around details and pieces of import. There is something so humbling and intensely human when life calls upon us to communicate without words. Facial expressions and body language become amplified currency with the eyes becoming our most important window to tone and meaning.
After I found the gifts I was looking for, I approached the table she’d been doing origami from. She carefully wrapped each item and I settled my bill. I smiled, bowed my head respectfully and whispered a delicate “arigatou” (thank you).
She did the same.
But before I could turn to leave she tucked two of the tiny paper cranes she’d been folding into my shopping bag. I felt a sudden surge of gratitude, awe and veneration overwhelm me. Surprised and a bit embarrassed by my own reaction, I quickly wiped away the tears that spilled out onto my eyeglasses.
I left the store on unsteady legs, both numbed and moved by the gesture of this elegant stranger.
From an overcrowded neighborhood in this sacred city, I had wandered into a respite of tranquility and grace. By walking through the door of a storefront that looked like it was closed from the street, I had set a simple and intimate exchange in motion. In the moment, it moved me to tears and for the rest of my life it would be a beautiful reminder of how uncomplicated the connections travel inspires can truly be.
Before I complicate and overthink it, I stop myself from wondering in busy skepticism if the shopkeeper gives out paper cranes to every customer.
That wasn’t what really mattered.
What mattered was how touching a collision could be between two strangers who couldn’t technically say anything more to each other than hello and thank you. And yet had managed in just a few seconds to have said so very, very much more.
