He mostly talked; I mostly listened. It was a conversation with a stranger, and as you know, sometimes the most revealing conversations are with strangers. Then you say goodbye. Strangers tend to say things that are new to the ear, or, if not new, said in a different way makes it seem new. Staying not too close to home allows strangers to enter one’s life in a most curious way.
He started talking about fear. He said that word is written more frequently than ever before, at least that’s what he feels. He was afraid that a certain something was going to happen to him. He said that it controlled him, and he’s trying to not let that happen. I asked if he knew whether that word was in all languages of the world? He doesn’t know, but that it sure is prevalent in ours. At the time, I had a point in asking, but it turned out to not be as important as just letting him talk. He was deep in thought and looked straight at me when he said, what stops many of us from doing what we’d like to do is fear. Then it was time for him to leave the train. And poof, he was gone. It sure was a heavy night for him.
I watched him walk up the aisle, and, for some strange reason, thought he was the perfect person to meet tonight. He chose a subject that was immensely interesting. Now he’s gone and I ponder it. I know he’ll be just fine and that’s the way I’ll remember him.
“We have no reason to mistrust our world, for it is not against us. Has it terrors, they are our terrors; has it abysses, those abysses belong to us, are dangers at hand, we must try to love them. . . How should we be able to forget those ancient myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave.” -Rainer Maria Rilke, “Letters to a Young Poet”