No one's paying attention. - Rory Miller
Rory's response to me after I exclaimed, "They weren't even paying attention," served, in hindsight, as a warning for the following day. At the time, though, with nothing ambiguously sinister presenting itself, the final day of a wonderful seminar, with wonderful people, commenced. The uniqueness of this self defense seminar lies in the instructors' abilities to teach their students both physical and non physical skills. The lessons learned are subjective, personal to each individual's observations and experiences, and can be lifechanging. On this final day, we were observing people- their dress, their behavior, and their reaction to us.
Rory was our group's first instructor that day at The Mall of America. We were supposed to be following people. How? The group separated. Unsure of what to do, I watched as Danny picked two or three people who were walking together, and she walked behind them. After a short while, she ducked into a store, undetected. When I began following those same people, they were absorbed in conversation, and I, too, went unnoticed.
Who were "they?" Random strangers, people that, (with no other options in a crowded mall), anyone would be following at any given day. Normally, I would be hyper- focused on such people, willing them to move, or looking for ways to pass them. If I wasn't in a hurry, normally, my face would nearly be glued to my cell phone, as if text conversations required constant, immediate attention. So why was I surprised with these, specific people? Rory's comment pertained to them, and to others at the mall, but, "You do it too," my conscience accused, forcing me to become aware of my own hypocrisy. It was a memorable lesson on paying attention.
The day continued, and we switched instructors multiple times. Each of our assignments focused on awareness. At one point, the vastness of the mall, the sea of people, movement, and the din of background noise became overwhelming. What I needed to notice about people wasn't going to get noticed. Frustrated, I asked Danny, wondering aloud as to why I couldn't do this.
Insightful, helpful, supportive and protective, Danny is one of Vio Dy's nicest people. She hesitated, then told me, "...I think you don't want to be seen, so you don't see people." She was 100 percent on point. From my outfits to my demeanor, nothing about me invites a stranger's approach, ever. I can't achieve invisibility, but I strive for uninteresting. Anxious introverts aren't known for friendliness. Yet, with as much as I wanted to be left alone, what was I actually projecting? What had Danny noticed? Would strangers, if they cared to look, make the same observations? What would be the outcome?
Conversations with Danny inspire thinking. I realized that assuming that entering an unwritten contract with society and considering it as our primary mode of protection is a dangerous assumption. We may attempt to manipulate situations, project certain looks and demeanors, or attempt to gain/avoid attention in any other manner, and, as long as our wants/wishes coincide with those of most people, they will generally be granted. We aren't, however, guaranteed reciprocation. What do we do when, a strategy that we've relied upon for years, one day fails us? Do we have an alternate plan? Does the event's outcome reshape our future?
What I learned from everyone, but in particular, from both Rory and Danny at Vio Dy last year, were invaluable lessons. When my "avoid to be avoided" strategy failed, vigilance didn't.
