Hello-ing my Way into 2025

how chatting with strangers can be a game changer for mental health

Photo by John Cameron on Unsplash

This week I watched with incredulity as a teenage girl wearing a cute little miniskirt and polka dot scarf wove and struggled and wobbled her bicycle through January snowdrifts, straight up one the steepest hills in our neighbourhood. To give you an idea of how steep, this street is aptly named Mountain, and it’s one I avoid on a pleasant spring day.

This girl was no athlete - her bike had a basket on it. But she persevered in her zig zagging approach and she never stopped. When she reached me, our eyes met, and I couldn’t help fist pumping and shouting ‘rock star’!!! The grin she gave me was priceless.

I’ve been reminded lately that it’s the little things that often keep us afloat. The big celebrations, the momentous occasions, and the big giant X’s on your calendar get all the ink, yet there is a quiet joy in a Monday encounter at minus 20 that seldom gets any press.

This can be a tough time of year for many of us.

The holiday hangover is upon us, the weather outside is frightful, and let’s be honest, inside is not always delightful. I had a painfully grumpy run last week, which was probably most painful for my husband, who was the brunt of most of it. Then the girl with the scarf happened. I took a good look at myself, and thought “enough already”. I, like so many of us, am in the unbelievably fortunate position of having very little to truly complain about. It was time to dust myself off and start interacting with my fellow humans again.

Samantha Chesler

wrote a column last week that began with this poem, and it hit the nail on the head. Thank you, Samantha, for bringing it to my attention (and if you don’t know her already, Samantha is one amazing human being worth following in her always thoughtful ‘Notes from the Middle’).

eschatology by Eve L. Ewing

i’m confident that the absolute dregs of possibility for this society,
the sugary coffee mound at the bottom of this cup,
our last best hope that when our little bit of assigned plasma implodes
it won’t go down as a green mark in the cosmic ledger,
lies in the moment when you say hello to a bus driver
and they say it back—

when someone holds the door open for you
and you do a little jog to meet them where they are—

walking my dog, i used to see this older man
and whenever I said good morning,
he replied ‘GREAT morning’—

in fact, all the creative ways our people greet each other
may be the icing on this flaming trash cake hurtling through the ether.

when the clerk says how are you
and i say ‘i’m blessed and highly favored’

i mean my toes have met sand, and wiggled in it, a lot.
i mean i have laughed until i choked and a friend slapped my back.
i mean my niece wrote me a note: ‘you are so smart + intellajet’

i mean when we do go careening into the sun,

i’ll miss crossing guards ushering the grown folks too, like ducklings
and the lifeguards at the community pool and
men who yelled out the window that they’d fix the dent in my car,
right now! it’d just take a second—

and actually everyone who tried to keep me alive, keep me afloat,
and if not unblemished, suitably repaired.

but I won’t feel too sad about it,
becoming a star

Copyright © 2024 by Eve L. Ewing. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on February 6, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.

“The crossing guard ushering grown folks too, like ducklings”…

it’s so true and funny and heartwarming, and slightly awkward, because we all get ushered sometimes.

Chatting with strangers doesn’t come naturally to me. I’m not an extrovert. I’m actually quite shy, and I have to constantly remind myself to look up, say hello, and engage. But when I make the most minimal effort I am almost always surprised at the outcome.

The unexpected camaraderie of a chat with the person behind you in line, a wave to kids on a school bus, a joke about the weather with a fellow soul in our Canadian Arctic tundra. These interactions have no purpose beyond being a spark between two human beings, hurtling through space at this strange moment in history, reminding each other that we matter, and we’re in this together.

The cheery parade of ‘Happy New Year'!’ greetings this week from anyone and everyone I met - grocery baggers, store clerks, bank tellers, the homeless guy on the corner, the newly arrived immigrant who washes cars for minimum wage - gives me a deep and abiding hope for humanity. It’s an acknowledgment that in this age of AI and alternate realities, of societal ills and alternate truths, the vast majority of us are rooting for each other.

And so, dear reader, a very Happy New Year to you.

May your 2025 be filled with tiny moments of connection with strangers wherever your travels may take you. Because it is these moments that make the world go round.

I’m Heather.

I’m a licensed naturopath, an unlicensed free spirit, an author, a mother, a yogi, a dog lover, a mystic, a goofball, an average but enthusiastic dancer.

Most of all, I’m curious.

I’m on a mission to bring you on a magical mystery tour of wellness, whimsy, and wanderlust. Thanks for tuning in.