Who Knew?

It's called Java Jam. The place turns into a pseudo coffee shop and people get up to sing, read poetry, or do a little comedy. I'd never been to Java Jam before. We'd always been invited to go when I went to the Tempe Art Awakenings studio. Tonight was different. I was already there and she asked me to stay. So I stayed. I even helped carve wax out of candle holders. (You had to be there.) But the anxiety of it all...It wasn't even just the people. It was my own feelings. My own thoughts. They were causing havoc. I should have just gone home, like I always do on Friday afternoons. Because what I really needed was to be alone. What I really needed was to stuff those thoughts and feelings so deep inside that I'd forget they were there. She asked me a couple of times if I was okay. I wasn't, but I tried to be. And finally, when she wasn't looking, I slipped outside to go home. But part of me didn't want to go. What I really wanted was just a little bit of attention. Let's be honest--I wanted a lot of attention. I wanted to be wrapped up in a big box of attention. Wasn't going to happen, though. That's why I needed to go home. To be alone. To make myself believe that those wants weren't even there. But as I turned to walk away I noticed him sitting alone at the table outside. I knew he was having a rough day too. I'd sensed it when he said he didn't want to go on stage. So I turned around and sat down at the table with him. "You look about as lost as I feel," he told me. He asked what was wrong. Just in a funk, I'd said. He's easy to talk to. Even easier to listen to. I asked him what was going on with him and we started talking. I knew how he was feeling. I'd been there, too. The rest of the night I popped in and out of Java Jam. The feelings, so intense before, were less intense and easier to deal with. And that's what empathy was about. It was about getting that attention that I craved by listening to someone else. By helping someone else.