When You’re Smilin’

By Janice Crawford

For decades I have been a rather “defended” West Villager, pretending to be a little — well, a lot — cooler than I am. Thank goodness, however, after years of on-going self-inquiry, practices with spiritual teachers from several traditions and the blessed privilege of becoming 82, I’m grateful that I am increasingly present in the moment. I even find that I have often taken the at first seemingly great risk of allowing myself a natural smile when encountering strangers on the street.

That new smile is also the result of an experience that further seduced me out from behind my mask of de rigueur indifference. It occurred while I was sitting in my walker in St. Luke’s Sanctuary Garden. I noticed a very tall, elegantly dressed young couple walking regally around the path. My semi-conscious judgement was to perceive them as very aloof, as if they held themselves far above common mortals. It was probably my rather jolly bowler hat that inspired her, but I was happily stunned when the woman swooped down into my face and excitedly said, “I just have to tell you, you look so cute!” She then rejoined her partner, resumed her persona and continued around the path.

Flabbergasted, I had to laugh at myself and acknowledge how easily I (and, I believe, most of us) unconsciously decide who “the other” is and respond defensively, thanks to our conditioning. Confronted by the fact I really do not know anything about people with whom I have had no previous interaction, this recognition has had a surprising effect. When I don’t get trapped in an automatic projection or reaction, a natural curiosity emerges about who that person may be, and the world becomes more alive and interesting.

On that day I began what I call “The West Village Smile Practice.” Whenever someone looks my way while we are walking on Hudson Street, when one of us is sitting at Oscar’s or another sidewalk café, or when I’m waiting to ring up my purchases at Garber’s Hardware, I gently smile at them. Sometimes they look surprised and cast their eyes away, but oftentimes they smile right back at me. And as we go about our day, I think we each may feel a little more sustained and hopeful.

However this may sound to some, I think the last thing anyone I know would call me is “Pollyannish.” And that is even more true during these days when those who are attempting to divide and destroy any one who will fight their attempts at dehumanization with their last breath. I consider the practice I am describing as consistent with revealing the deeper truth of who and what we really are. Also, in addition to my own life experience as a trauma therapist, I certainly recognize being human is damn difficult. If not all, most of us harbor embedded layers of hurt and disappointment that often occurred at moments when we were joyful and undefended.

I must also acknowledge I don’t smile at everyone. That is either because I fall into old habits, or the person I’m encountering is obviously engaged in something else like their cell phone or because, true or not, some people feel a bit intimidating. There are those people who, even if you are the only two on the street, seem insulted that you would interrupt them with a smile. And it interests me which individuals I feel hesitant to smile at or with whom I resort to a perfunctory smile.

But I have found the promise of the old song sung by Louis Armstrong, “When you’re smilin’ the whole world smiles with you,” is often true. And one of the things I’ve noticed is that the responsive smiles often mirror how genuine and open I am being. Occasionally our masquerades even dissolve for a moment with surprising delight. At that moment I believe we are two humans just recognizing the similarity of our humanity on some very deep level and making something real. As the thirteenth century Zen monk Dogen said, “If my self does not put forth the utmost exertion and live time now, not a single thing will be realized.”

It does not bother me in the least if the person doesn’t smile back or if their smile is forced condescension. The smile is simply a small human gift of recognition that they can accept or reject. I do, however, sometimes feel sad for the person who cannot accept that gift, remembering how I have felt when I am automatically dismissing someone. At my best moments I sometimes even find myself empathic to someone like Donald Trump who seems unable to distinguish and be touched by true kindness.

And in Midtown one day last week I asked myself. “Why am I only engaged in my Smile Project in the Village?” And even more recently the same question came up when I was on the Upper West Side. So, I’m warning Manhattan, there may be full-borough coverage in the not-too-distant future. I’m enjoying this reprieve from pretending to be a disinterested, separately cocooned human – and I’m considering franchising! It does take a bit of courage at first, this simple recognition of each other. After all, this act can recognize that no matter how different we may be on the outside, there is something open and generous within each of us that is exactly the same. And that something loves seeing itself.