There’s a French film from the oeuvre of a director you’ve probably
never heard of where, after a series of trials in love and life, the
protagonist embraces unabashed solitude by dining alone. Not just
without human company, but without a book, newspaper, notebook,
or any distraction at all. It’s dining stripped bare. She observes
passersby and other patrons, not averting her eyes when they look
back; a waif dining alone with nothing in her hands but the stem of
a wine glass. She sits, she stares. And she survives – thrives, even.
She learns, far more quickly than I have, that sitting and staring
are not to be feared. She doesn’t need company or distraction; she
need not consume anything but the food on her plate, of which
she eats little, anyway. (OK, yes, it was an episode ofSex and the
City, but Carrie probably wore at least one beret that episode, and
besides, you’re missing the point.)
The first iPhone was released in 2007. That’s only 10 years ago,
or, in terms of my skin, about 37 per cent collagen elasticity. In
10 years, the way we wait, the way we sit or pass the time, has
transformed radically. When I was in my 20s, my sister constantly
scolded me for staring at people. She’d catch me on the front steps
of our Brisbane sharehouse, staring out at the foot traffic. I liked
watching. Not in a perverted way, but also not entirelynotin a
perverted way. I don’t do that anymore. Now, when I find myself withan empty 30 seconds – waiting for the pedestrian light or on hold
to an unnamed government agency – whipping out my phone is as
natural and practised an action as my jaw tensely clenching. I flick
and scroll, hunting for the meaning of life on my screen. I’ve trained
myself to constantly seek distraction through my smartphone.
All this stimulation has left me with a giant, muscular thumb
and flaccid staring bones. I’ve forgotten how to stare; how to just
observe. I’m not talking about meditation and mindfulness – I’m
so far away from inner peace that even mentioning the ‘m’ word
makes me reach for my phone. I’m talking about that dreamy
feeling you get when you ease into a deep gaze. When you just
stop for a minute of mouth-breathing observation. Your mind is
still racing with shopping lists or counting the days since you last
had a bowel movement, but your eyes are locked in one place,
just watching and, most importantly, your hands are still.
Maybe the feeling of staring is a kind of mindfulness and I’ve
just never meditated properly (which is possible, I’m genetically
anxious). Whatever it is, I recommend trying it – though it’s not as
simple as it sounds. There are rules. For example, you can’t be
closer than three metres from the person you’re staring at, and
even then, it’s still better if they’re facing the opposite direction or
distracted. Remember, you’re not Marina Abramovic’. Or maybe you
are, and if so, hi! Never stare at a person while following them –
you’ll cross the line from relaxation to incarceration. Stare at objects
for as long as you want, but not a stranger’s front door or handbag.
The ocean and sky are the most relaxing and non-invasive options.
In theory, minimising the time I spend scrolling should open me
up to more conversations with strangers, which is great, as I have
limited human contact in my life. My two best friends are my
chiropractors (I got a second chiropractor after my psychologist
told me to expand my social circle). I haven’t conversed with any
new folks yet, but perhaps I need to be the person who makes
the first move. Baby steps. For now, I’m happy stoking the social
awkwardness I inspire in others by staring deep and pensively into
their hairlines and handbags.going blank
IT’S TIME TO STOP SCROLLING AND
START STARING, SAYS CARO COOPER.
PhotoLukasz Wierzbowskirant