Nonessential characters

Not everyone has to be cast in a leading role in your life.

There’s a guy at my yoga studio that I dread seeing. He walks in and unrolls his yoga mat in such a way that says, “I’m unhappy to be here, please don’t talk to me, and I’m better than you.” The worst part is that he is better than me at yoga.

There’s a server at the SUGARFISH near me that casts this same energy. It’s impressive, in some sense, to be able to say to a customer, “Have you dined with us before?” while your eyes squint just enough to convey, “I obviously remember you but I’m asking you this to make you feel forgettable.” Fucker’s probably also great at yoga.

There’s a guy who walks around my neighborhood like he’s showcasing Dior’s new Spring collection on a runway in Vienna. I’m captivated by how much smug a strut can contain. I wonder why he hates me so much. I cycle through the likely possibilities and land on something like maybe I accidentally cut in front of him at a coffee shop one time eight years ago? I then make a judgment based on no evidence whatsoever that this guy is awful at yoga, which brings me a moment of fleeting joy.

Who are these people? Who are they, like, literally—who are they? But somewhat more importantly, who are these types of people? And what the hell is their problem?

I went to yoga today and that dreadful guy was there, being absolutely dreadful. At some point I was staring at him doing an amazing fallen triangle pose (with his leg in the air like an egocentric asshole), and it hit me:

Why am I so captured by this random person?

My attention was fully spotlighting this absolutely nonessential character. But why?

As an experiment, I shifted the spotlight to a woman on the other side of me. She was wearing weighted wristbands on each of her wrists to make the class that extra bit more challenging. No one asked her to do this. These were her wristbands that she bought on Amazon and took it upon herself to wear to class. I’ve never seen anyone do this in a yoga class before, by the way. This should have infuriated me. But it didn’t. In fact, I felt nothing. Which was overwhelmingly fascinating. I sat in the complete non-opinion of this woman for nearly two minutes. She was simply the person next to me.

What was it about the dreadful guy that made him dreadful and what was it about the woman next to me that prevented her from taking up any bandwidth at all in my mind?

I don’t have an answer.

But I wonder: what could the dreadful guy do to endear himself to me, if anything? Now, the first thing that came to mind was super simple: say something—literally anything—when you first walk in and put your mat down next to me. Words are powerful. They’re like spells. And certain combinations of words can somehow incomprehensibly dispel bad energy. Imagine if he unfurled his mat and said:

• Today is a beautiful day.

• Ooh, I love the color of your mat.

• Front row club!

• Have you ever taken this teacher’s class before?

• I’ve seen you here a few times before, my name’s Chad (probably).

• You’re not the guy who rode the horse in, right? There’s a horse downstairs and you give the impression that you’re the type to ride a horse in.

We tend to unconsciously categorize groups of words like this as “conversation starters.” But think about how that phrase sits in your mind and feel the energy that phrase puts in your chest.

Conversation starter.

Curious if you feel the same sense of tightness and looming work that I do. Starter? Well if it’s starting then it has to continue. And then it has to end. And who the hell knows how long this is going to take and I’m already exhausted and we haven’t even startered yet. Conversation? How did I get roped into a full-on conversation? Here I am simply lying down, waiting for class to start, and it feels like someone just signed me up for the school play without my consent. I don’t know my lines and I forgot my puritan buckle shoes at home (in my mind the school play is The Crucible or something).

But what if “conversation starter” wasn’t the linguistic box we drew around these phrases. What if we called them “energy shifting spells”?

Well holy shit, now we’re talking. A shift—a shift is subtle. A shift is easy. I just shifted in my chair right now! The intention isn’t to engage in an extended back-and-forth. It’s to open up a window and let some fresh air in, and that takes but a moment. And if you didn’t know, spells are really fun. Who doesn’t want to say a few words—an incantation, perhaps?!—and go from

• awkward → comfortable

• tense → stable

• stale → joyful

It’s really just a playful reframe of what we’re actually trying to accomplish in a moment: conjure space that feels comfortable and open. But, playful reframes have immense power. When singers put too much emphasis on crushing the high note, they can choke. They fall flat or it sounds strained. What’s interesting is that in another song, they may have to hit that same note, but it may not be the highest note of the song—and that same singer will breeze right through it with ease. How? Because we’re not categorizing it as “the high note.” It’s just “a note.”

I’m sure there’s something similar in sports, but lol if you think I’m able to connect that dot and also—feel free to comment below if you can, please and thank you.

Change the category → change the context → change the internal relationship → change the external effort.

In fact, assigning the category of “nonessential character” did this exact thing. Why am I so captured by these random people? Because “egocentric asshole” is a dangerous category! People in this category must be monitored in case they try to pull some unexpected shit or say something bullying or try to take something from you.

But nonessential character? Oh. Well, that’s just somebody in class.

Can’t you feel their power already dwindling?

Abracadabra.