Familiar Strangers
I scanned the airport terminal, searching for the woman whose face I only knew in profile from the black and white photo on her website. It was funny when I recognized her from behind, a full-length shot in Technicolor, her back arched over the car rental counter and head dipped in concentration. I’m not sure if it was her height, – I’d always imagined her to be tall – the argyle-print totebag that rested at her side, or the low ponytail gathered at the nape of her neck, but somehow I knew it was her.
We embraced, familiar strangers, marveling at how luck, fate, circumstance – divinity – had brought us together across the impossible bridge of time and space. I’m not sure who found who in the universe of the World Wide Web, but we began visiting one another’s virtual “homes” shortly after each of us began blogging two years ago. We exchanged emails from time to time, and while we didn’t really “know” each other, something told me that I’d like her if we ever had the chance to meet in person. But it was Kristen who created the momentum for actually making that meeting happen, a plan hatched in the Twittersphere, a wouldn’t-that-be-cool idea soon developing into a concrete reality.
From the moment that the wheels of our car gripped the interstate for our hour-long drive to Kripalu we started a conversation that continued virtually uninterrupted, save for sleep, for three days. Although the conditions of our lives and our backgrounds are decidedly different, we quickly unearthed many invisible threads that bound us together, threads that weren’t obvious from a casual web-based relationship. We connected immediately over things big and small: motherhood and chocolate chip cookies, career angst and fresh-baked bread, the work of Jhumpa Lahiri and an abiding fear of silent breakfast (a Kripalu policy). In between yoga classes and writing exercises we discovered a shared taste in literature, swapping countless book recommendations. Despite the fact that we both have young children in the house, making sleep as precious as gold, we slouched against the cinderblock walls of our simple room telling stories long into the night and spinning inside jokes, that most private of gestures. More than once I glanced at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock, silently promising myself that I’d go to bed in “just 10 more minutes,” but would find myself laughing an hour later.
At the end of each workshop session, Dani would lead us in a brief meditation. One morning, as the fog rolled through the green hills just outside the expansive window of our meeting room, I gently closed my eyes and let the words wash over me. We were directed to send loving thoughts to ourselves, a loved one, a “familiar stranger,” and I thought about how this particular year has brought me into contact with so many of these unique kindred spirits. I cherish my long-standing relationships that exist in the comfortable, worn grooves created by years of treading a joint history. But there is something sparkling in creating a new connection. It is heartening to take a leap of faith with another person, the shared trust that exists when each party dives in head-first without knowing exactly how the other person might “turn out.” As Kristen and I sat comfortably shoulder to shoulder in the airport terminal awaiting our respective flights home, announcements booming over the loudspeaker, I realized that there is something magical, akin to alchemy, in transforming a familiar stranger into a friend. For somewhere between the countless hours of conversations, the car rides, the walk in the woods, and the shared meals, we had made that the silent, delicate passage into genuine friendship.
The older I grow the more these relationships – forged not through similar circumstances but through something deeper – mean to me. I find I’d rather spend what limited leisure time I have in the company of others with whom I share a deep and abiding connection, from familiar strangers to emerging friendships to those true-blue souls who have seemingly always been there. Whether it’s stoking the fires of a long-standing friendship or kindling new ones, I am increasingly willing to go the distance – both literally and figuratively – in search of these “soul connections.” Some might think I’m crazy for traipsing around the country to spend time with people I barely know, arguing that engaging “familiar strangers” in the virtual realm takes us away from the people who are present in our “real” lives. I’d say that having the opportunity to meet these familiar strangers in person opens the door for them to become something more. Sometimes I have parted ways with people knowing full well we’ll never see each other again, even as we call “see you soon!” over our shoulders. But as Kristen and I plotted plans for a future adventure – someway, somehow we are going to converge on a writing conference next year – I knew without a doubt that, when I step off the plane next year, she’ll be there waiting for me.




















