Throngs of People
The train pulls up. My stomach clinches when I see how full it is. Students dressed in linen uniform, the Carp faithful, and brief case carrying salary men all crammed together. I have no choice but to join the flow. We boarders stand to the right and left of the door, knowing our turn will come.
On the train I am acutely aware of the space I take up. We stand as close as possible without touching. That is very close. I feel heat. Hear breath. See pores. Big clear drops of sweat drip of off shiny black coarse hair follicles. Droopy lids accommodate dead tired eyes. A shift of weight from the left to right foot causes disturbance or turbulence.
The train is silent. There is no acknowledgement of discomfort. There is no agitation, exasperation or impatience. It is calm. This not only happens on the train. It happens as 50, 000 excited fans enter and exit the Carp game. Or celebrate Toukosan. Or visit temples during the New Year celebrations of Oshougatsu.
Being in this calm throng of humanity awes me. It stirs deep inside something that never is stirred in Idaho where there is plenty of elbowroom. A thin invisible string of connectedness vibrates in this throng. It’s humble hum moving through me. I am a part of it. I am calm. I am safe.
I will miss the throngs of people.