Empty boxes

I passed a man this morning on the sidewalk. It was a windy and rainy yet unseasonably warm morning, but the first week of January malaise meant that the sidewalk and the rest of the street were empty for as far as the eye could see. Living in a city center of one of the most densely populated countries on Earth, this happens so infrequently that I caught myself watching the only other soul in sight making his way slowly towards me. When I quickly realized his back was hunched and his head was down, I was instinctively emboldened to opening stare at him. He was incredibly well dressed in a black three piece suit and dark dress shoes. The black skin on his face was drawn. The hand that glasped shut the front of his jacket looked so fragile. Other than the curve from his hunched back, the suit hung off his emaciated body as it would hanging in a closet. Looking closer, I realized the oversized suit coat was probably the man's only winter jacket and wondered how many more lifetimes and years it had seen than me.

He shuffled along the sidewalk holding a clear plastic container that at one time probably held a corsage. He held it so tenderly in his right hand, away from his body as so to not upset it's contents with his body movement and seemed so fully focused on it, that I doubted at first that it was empty. What special event was this man going to or coming from or, rather, did he think he was going to or coming from? Why was he treating this seemingly discarded yet pristine clear plastic packaging like a treasured possession?

I tried to imagine what treasure he was planning to put on display in it. I have seen my fair share of objects that seemed so worthless to me proudly displayed by another for it's supposed symbol of wealth or for it's sentimental value. We are all guilty of this at one time or another. Think of the first time a Starbucks opened up in your neighborhood. Do you remember how everyone proudly showed off their paper or plastic cups with the signature green logo? In a conservative Muslim area of Indonesia, I watched a middle aged man carry around the same bottle of Heineken all night swaying dramatically and laughing loudly as if drunk. Being able to afford the $2 Heineken was a major sign wealth and perhaps seeming to buck the conservative Muslim rules by appearing drunk in public was also a sign of his status. But I think even that Indonesian man wouldn't find much value in a plain plastic box.

Perhaps my fellow pedestrian is senile. Perhaps, in his mind, he was sixteen again going to pick up the beautiful girl that would years later be his wife and would, in reality, have passed away a few years ago. I was so intrigued, I nearly stopped to ask him. I am sure my inquiry would have been returned with the same pitying wide eyed quizzical look that I had on my own face. It got me thinking, though. What empty plastic box do each of us carry around? What illusions do we hold most dear? What belief or value or even possession do we hold so tightly that, if we voiced it aloud or showed it to a stranger, would they doubt our grasp on sanity? And, most signficantly, which of those things are propelling us forward and which are holding us back? How are we getting in our own way?

I have spent the past few months job hunting and, thankfully, I have found a job I am really excited about. I just finished my first week there and feel like I am right where I am supposed to be. It is a great company and I feel right at home with my colleagues. I remember, in my many interviews, I was often asked to describe a weakness that I need to work on. I am sure it is a question we have all faced. I honestly admitted that much of the feedback I had received from previous managers is that I lacked the confidence and abililty to convince people and 'win' them with my point of view.

I have known this about myself for years and had figured at some level it was just something I was going to have to accept about myself. I had also secretly believed that it was a trait everyone possessed and most of their personalities revolved around managing their waning self-confidence. Strangely, though, several of the people I interviewed with challenged my answer. Two went so far as to insist I was just making up a fault I did not actually possess which is sometimes what candidates are coached to do. At first I was indignant in my insistence that I was being honest...not exactly what one should do in an interview. Imagine saying, "No, really, I have alot of work to do in building my convincing skills!"

But the more I tried to explain myself and, later, the more I thought back on this past year of travelling, I realized, something has shifted in me. Maybe it is time to set that belief aside and see what happens. So, I guess, when inevitably someone asks me why I took a year off to travel, I can add to my list of reasons, "It helped me to get out of my own way."